


to you it's like calling the wind

by hannies



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Slow Build, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 44,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15829806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannies/pseuds/hannies
Summary: Jisoo stares at Jeonghan from behind, with his stupid bleached-blonde hair that smells like LA sun and faintly of artificial mango, his black hoodie that rests comfortably on top of his broad shoulders, the two moles on the side of his neck that if Jisoo draws a parentheses under, makes a smiley face -- and wonders what he’s so scared of. He watches as the skyline fills with deep reds and oranges and thinks about how Jeonghan’s touch feels just as red-hot as the sunset displayed in front of them.He thinks about how Jeonghan is the absolute worst, and the most annoying person he has ever met, but wonders why he feels like he can never quite leave him without coming back.(Or, Jisoo and Jeonghan learn to love throughout the seasons.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so... after six months of lots of writing and procrastinating and promising myself that i'll write later only to bail on said promise.. my first full length fic (ever?) is finally done!! i tried to make this as canon compliant as possible but svt club started airing in the middle of me writing this and basically invalidated a significant amount of major details (fuck u pledis and svt's new dorm situation!!! i wanted to scream many times while writing this both at myself and the characters and threatened to delete this entire fic many times throughout the writing process because of U!!!!)
> 
> but on a more positive note, thank u especially to everyone who listened to me complain about this fic and then yelled at me to finish writing it.. really...... ur nagging was greatly appreciated
> 
> i'm talking too much.. ummm all i have left to say is that i really hope i characterized everyone well and didn't make jeonghan too much of an annoying brat and to please enjoy this giant unbeta'd mess of a jihan fic~~ i really hope u love it as much as i do because no matter how many times i say i hate this fic, it really is my baby (*´ω｀*)

_I. Winter_

 

  
"One more time!"

Soonyoung calls, voice bouncing off the cream walls of their practice room. His voice is filled with determination and fighting-spirit, but Jeonghan can hear the weariness in his voice just as clear.

The members are all tired, he can see it in the way Seungkwan's steps weaken a little more every time Soonyoung throws out another request to re-run the chorus. Seokmin hasn't bothered to sing along to the track playing in the background since twenty minutes ago, the melody quickly becoming nothing more than ambient noise that no one pays any mind to, an ignored background to their demanding choreography.

Minghao's face is flush with heat, cheeks pinker than Soonyoung’s after eating tteokbokki. Jeonghan can hear Jisoo’s tired breaths next to him, his own pants mimicking the tired desperation of all the members surrounding him. Despite his rapidly declining stamina, Jeonghan smiles. It’s at simple moments like these, when he listens to their thirteen heartbeats align and match with one another and feels the rise and fall of their chests settle into a comfortable rhythm that his heart softens into a pile of mush and he gets all teary-eyed and thankful for his members.

If you were to tell the Jeonghan of three years ago that he would become inseparable with a group of twelve immature, naive twenty-some-year olds, some of which who still believed that you could colonize the Sun as long as you did it at night, and that a tiny room in a triangular building with painted charcoal bricks that occupied a deserted intersection in the middle of Seoul would become his home, (and also conveniently the place where his soul can die surrounded by the combined body odor of the aforementioned twelve teenage boys all seven days of the week), he probably would’ve laughed and then started to speed walk towards the subway station, because the Jeonghan of 2013 was always fucking running late to his morning classes.

Life works in funny ways, however, and in three years Jeonghan learns. He learns, and he grows into a person that he can barely even recognize anymore.

In a week, he successfully broke his poor parents’ hearts by dropping out of acting school as soon as he got street-casted by a representative for “ _Pledis Entertainment, home to global superstars After School, NU’EST, Son Dambi, and Orange Caramel”_ (truthfully, he hadn’t known that such a company had existed in Korea until after he was casted and he went home to look the name up on Naver Search, but at the time he decided that his parents didn’t have to be made aware of this fact, and frankly, they never will be).

He learned in two months that he has a knack for performing in front of people, and despite the fact that he had never done strenuous physical activity for more than an hour at a time thanks to his record-breaking low stamina, he’s actually quite good at dancing and singing at the same time.

In six months he learned, though he’ll never admit it to their faces as long as he’s still living and breathing on this Earth, that having twelve other people to lean on isn’t all that bad.

In two years, after debuting on an unfamiliar stage that felt far too slippery under his feet beside the same twelve boys who had held his shaking hands and offered their arms as a home back in 2013, he learns that a cord of thirteen strands is not so easily broken.

In this moment, Jeonghan allows himself to zone out and throws his head back to stare at the fluorescent light glaring harshly at him in the middle of the ceiling. He’s tired from the endless amounts of practice -- by now every single beat of the song, every single movement in the choreography is engraved into every corner of his brains and seared into all 650 muscles in his body.

But even that isn’t enough, at least not for the company and not for their main choreographer either. No matter how many times he stays in the practice room with the members from four in the afternoon until nine in the morning the next day breaking down the moves _over and over and over_ again or how many times he ends up going to bed only when the morning sun rises, there will always be something wrong with the choreography, a crack in the foundation desperately needing to be patched up and fixed.

But Jeonghan pushes through, both for his members and for himself, because even though he’ll never admit it out loud, he thinks he was born to perform.

Smoothing over the fabric on his jeans and softly tapping on the dusty grey floor of their practice room that they never bring themselves to sweep, Jeonghan kicks at Jisoo’s feet. “Shua-ya, I’m tired.”

“When are you not?” Jisoo raises an eyebrow at him, offering his shoulder for Jeonghan to rest his head on.

Jeonghan doesn’t want to ruin his new shirt by getting his sweat all over it, so he shakes his head and gives Jisoo a gentle smile, thanking him. “I’m good, Shua. Thanks.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” He says with as much conviction as possible, rolling his eyes jokingly.

“Jeonghan, Jisoo, focus!” Their company’s choreographer reprimands, glaring at them through the large mirror that extends down the entire length of the practice room.

There are permanent handprints on the mirror from when Soonyoung got too excited about a choreography and ran into the mirror, miscalculating the time it would have taken for him to slow down at the speed he decided to propel himself into the wall at. Though from far away, the handprints look more like cloudy smudges due to wear-and-tear, so they’ve _luckily_ never been questioned about it.

Leaning towards Jisoo’s ear, Jeonghan whispers just loud enough for the two of them to hear. “Don’t tell Soonyoung or the _devil_ ,” he pauses to look back at the choreographer, who’s busy tapping her glossy red nails against the side of a wall as she stands on a stool in the back of their practice room, carefully monitoring their movements. “But if I hear the word boom one more time I might bash my head into a wall.”

“If you want to bash your head into a wall I’d be more than happy to push you into the wall right there,” Jisoo grins, throwing his hand back and pointing to the back wall.

“No thanks. I’d rather not have you dislocate my neck,” Jeonghan answers dryly, wiping at his forehead.

“I’m just being a good friend and saving you from the embarrassment of having to tell our CEO that you _just so happened_ to walk into a wall in the middle of dance practice.”

“Thanks for the kind offer _,_ but I think I’m going to have to decline,” Jeonghan says through gritted teeth.

“Suit yourself. I think you would’ve enjoyed the free pass to go back to our dorm to rest in your comfortable bed, wrap yourself in warm blankets like a human burrito, and fall asleep with the heat on full blast,” Jisoo lists, grinning when Jeonghan pushes his shoulder.

“Ah, it’s still not quite right yet,” The choreographer announces, and Jeonghan can see Soonyoung’s energy and patience slowly drifting out of his body, eyes glazed over as she begins to point out the mistakes that she caught during their run-through.

Jeonghan grabs his water bottle, fingers nearly slipping off the bottle due to the condensation, and starts to chug the ice water, emptying the contents in a matter of seconds. Tapping Jisoo on the shoulder, Jeonghan runs his finger along the surface of the bottle and the immature middle schooler inside of him begins to take over, presenting a particularly obscene illustration of the lower part of the male anatomy to a rather unimpressed Jisoo.

“How mature of you, Jeonghan,” Jisoo rolls his eyes. He turns around, but not quite fast enough to conceal the whisper of small smile that had started to appear on his face. “That’s the difference between the you when we first met and the you now, you know. Back then, you knew when to shut up _and_ not to draw obscene images in the middle of practice.”

“Do you want to die?” Jeonghan whispers sweetly, grabbing onto the back of Jisoo’s neck.

“Do _you_ want to die?” Jisoo answers, twisting out of Jeonghan’s grip without warning and grabbing onto his arm.

“Soonyoung, you know what’s wrong with the choreography, right?” Their choreographer sharply retorts from a stool in the back of the room, eyes scanning each and every one of their bodies like an eagle patiently waiting for the perfect time to strike their prey.

Soonyoung nods, clearly agreeing for the sake of the members so that they can get home faster.

Jeonghan mentally thanks him for not arguing with her today, because even though all of their choreographies are almost entirely a result of Soonyoung’s genius brain, their company apparently still doesn’t trust them enough to make the final decisions regarding their dances, and so as a result their CEO presents them with a visit comparable to being tortured in Hell from the company’s choreographer monthly.

Both the choreographer and Soonyoung are extremely hot-headed, so when they butt heads over choreography, which is often, negative energy hangs around in the practice room for days and it looms over Jeonghan while he’s practicing like a demon waiting to possess him.

“So, I think we have a bit of a formation problem here when Jeonghannie comes in during the first chorus,” He fiddles with his fingers, and Jeonghan can practically hear the gears turning in Soonyoung’s head as he thinks of a way to visually express what he wants to change in the choreography.

He turns his head back to glance at their choreographer, and she doesn’t dispute Soonyoung’s statement, thank God. Instead she’s nodding her head in agreement, an affirmation of the fact that Jeonghan would be able to get more than two hours of sleep tonight. He actually lets out an audible sigh of happiness at the thought of being well-rested.

  
Moving his fingers across the floor of their practice room as if he were drawing an invisible map of their movements, Soonyoung begins to explain the changes.

“Here, how about this. Instead of having all of us stand, why don’t we just have Jeonghan, Jihoon, Seungkwan, Seokmin, Hansol, and me stay standing, while the rest of you kneel where you are? I think, visually, that would work better.” The members nod in a mixture of agreement and understanding.

  
Jeonghan feels sudden movement beside him, and Jisoo’s arm brushes against his side, gentle like the snowflakes descending from the ink black sky outside of their practice room.

He turns to Jisoo, and they share a look of understanding, a conversation between two pairs of tired eyes. Jisoo smiles at Jeonghan, face glowing with perspiration as the lights of the practice room reflect on his tanned skin.

 _Yah, you’re not special. I’m just as tired as you are,_ Jisoo says with his mocha eyes, under-eye fat becoming more prominent as his signature eye-smile starts to appear.

He grabs Jeonghan’s hand and laces their fingers together, smooth skin against Jeonghan’s calloused palm. He rubs a thumb across Jeonghan’s knuckles, squeezes his hand, and turns back around to face the front of the practice room, returning his focus to Soonyoung.

  
The clock on the wall reads 3:30 AM, and Jeonghan's muscles ache to the steady tick-tick of the minute hand. One hundred and twenty ticks per minute, he counts. He can feel the lactic acid burning in his calves, and his neck is sticky with perspiration.

Jeonghan glances at himself in the mirror. His face is shiny and covered in a sheen of sweat, like condensation on a glass of ice water. He brings a hand up to his forehead, watching the muscles in his arm slowly flex and pull, their shadows slowly giving dimension to his arm, and brushes a stray strand of hair back into place. His hand lingers behind his ear for just a second, and he glances back at the clock, too tired to focus on anything else.

The minute hand moves one centimeter forward, and Jeonghan closes his eyes.

Even with his eyes closed, he still sees the bright yellow lights of their practice room, and echoes of the members dancing. Jeonghan feels the beats better, his mind subdivides the rhythms and he can feel the steady bum-bum of the bassline.

One. Jeonghan twirls his finger around, three, four, five, six times. Two. Seungcheol is center now. Jeonghan points right, left, and then forward. Makes a charming face in the mirror. Three. He turns his fingers to Seungcheol's ad-lib. Four. He becomes one with the music, heart beating in the steady four-four pulse of their song.

  
“Jeonghan, wake up!” Chan suddenly launches himself onto Jeonghan’s back, embracing him. He grins and his eyes suddenly don’t look so glazed over anymore, twinkling under the harsh lights of their practice room.

Jeonghan’s always wondered how the younger was able to harness so much energy at 3AM, when the rest of the fucking world was asleep and dreaming about happiness and world peace while they went through countless repetitions of a choreography that has been pounded into all of their brains.

All of the members glance at him, fists tightly clenched to their sides as if the harder they squeezed their hands, the easier it would be to stifle back giggles. There had always been a childish sense of shame that came with being the first person to stop focusing during practice, the rest of the members looking down at Jeonghan as if he were the first kid to fall asleep at a sleepover.

  
Seungcheol gives Jeonghan a look of pity, and he steps slightly forward so that he’s facing all of them, still breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling in short puffs. "I know you're all tired, but just one more run-through and we'll be out of here! We got this!" He shouts.

  
"One more run-through and we can finally eat!" Seungkwan adds, grinning.

The members visibly perk up at the thought of eating. Junhui even gathers the energy to let out a whoop, even though he had been staring at the same spot on the floor for the past three minutes. They’ve been practicing since two in the afternoon, and Jeonghan isn't going to lie. He’s just as hungry as they are. Like, he would seriously consider harvesting one of the member's organs just for some cheap 3,000 won noodles-hungry.

Plus, now that he thinks about it, harvesting Mingyu’s organs doesn't seem like too bad of an idea. He's practically eighty-percent muscle since he started working out almost a year ago, and he’s such a innately pure, young 20-year-old that his organs could probably go for a lot on the black market. (Not that Jeonghan would know anything about the factors that go into the price of a human organ.)

Not only that, but Mingyu had stolen Jeonghan's charger the night before while Jeonghan was asleep, and left Jeonghan's phone on the ground with only twenty-percent battery left. Just for that, he deserves to lie unconscious and vital organ-less in their dorm bathtub.

  
While hunger gnaws angrily at Jeonghan’s stomach as he thinks about the savory taste of kakejiru broth, Chan turns around, facing the CD player in the back of their practice room, and goes to replay the track. The first beat hits, and Seungcheol raises the right side of his jacket.  
  


-

 

Jeonghan arrives in front of the Pledis Entertainment building in 2012 with nothing but a knock-off Eastpak backpack and a rotten-banana-peel-yellow fur lined jacket that hung loosely on his shoulders and arms, nearly swallowing him whole. It takes him almost an hour to make his way through the building and find the practice room he was supposed to report to, and by the time he steps in front of a door chipping so much paint it was practically 75 percent wood instead of the bright white Jeonghan assumes it was originally painted to be, he begins to think that he was scammed.

Jeonghan slowly opens the door only for it to creak loudly like hundreds of squeaking mice, and he _genuinely_ wants to die in that moment, right then and there, when what seems like 30 heads and pairs of eyes begin to turn and glare at him.

“Hi, I’m here for--” He begins, shyly laying a hand on the back of his head.

“Save it, Seoul. We know who you are already,” A tall, puppy-like boy with sharp canines emerges from the front of the room, smiling. “And we have better things to do with our time than to welcome you, so just join the back of the room and hope that you can catch on.”

He pauses before grinning even wider, raising a brow at Jeonghan. “If you can catch on, you just might be able to debut.” _Mingyu_ , the front of his shirt reads. Jeonghan can detect a mild satoori in his voice, and assumes that he’s from somewhere near Seoul -- Gyeonggi-do, he guesses.

“Actually, my name is--” Jeonghan starts walking towards the back of the room and finds a spot next to a boy the same height as him, with messy bangs and a baby blue shirt that clung too tightly to his arms.

“Don’t,” The boy interrupts Jeonghan.

“They’re really serious about seniority here, so don’t piss off the _sunbaenims,_ ” He says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Or else they’ll make your life miserable here, and who knows how long we’ll be stuck in this basement.”

Jeonghan laughs and watches Mingyu through the space between the people standing in front of him, and attempts to mirror his movements. “Noted.”

“I’m Jisoo, by the way,” The boy points to the characters on his t-shirt. “I joined just a few weeks ago.”

Jeonghan just nods in acknowledgement and chooses to focus instead on Mingyu, who’s reprimanding someone in the front for a reason he can’t quite hear.

“You gonna tell me your name, Seoul?” Jisoo laughs, the corner of his lips turning up. “Or can you not understand me? I just moved from LA, my Korean isn't that good.”

“It’s not terrible,” Jeonghan squeezes his fists, arms hanging awkwardly at his side. “And I guess you’ll have to wait to know my name.”

“How enigmatic,” Jisoo smiles gently. “I guess I have no choice but to stay by your side then.”

Jeonghan hears Mingyu before he sees him. The 6 foot tall puppy-like but not really when it comes to his personality boy stops the disc player in the front of the room and walks up to Jeonghan, breathing down his neck.

“Talking during practice already? Really shows your dedication, Seoul.”

Jeonghan grimaces, twiddling his thumbs nervously in front of him. Mingyu continues, baring his canines. “I’ve been watching you through the mirror. You’re doing it wrong.”

Mingyu begins to demonstrate, brows knitted in annoyance. “It’s a snapping motion, like this.” He throws his arms forward, locking his wrists and quickly cutting off the momentum at the end of the range of motion.

“Your arms are like spaghetti. You need to be able to do this, how well you’re able to utilize the fundamentals to execute future choreographies is what’s going to make or break you as a trainee,” He tuts. “Not too good of a first impression, hm?”

“Dude, give him a break,” Jisoo interrupts from beside Jeonghan. “He’s only been here for 10 minutes, you can’t expect him to be perfect.”

“You’re not much better, Jisoo. Need I remind you of the fact that you failed your first dance evaluation?” Mingyu rolls his eyes, already walking back to the front of the room. “Stay here after practice. I want you both to do repetitions of this exercise until your arms fall off. Maybe then you’ll learn to appreciate the basics.”

“You were gonna make us stay after anyways,” Jisoo says matter-of-factly. “ _Asshole_.” He whispers under his breath.

Jeonghan laughs into his t-shirt, and awkwardly accepts a high-five from Jisoo.

-

When the rest of the trainees file out after practice, Jisoo watches them all leave through the door and waits until every last one of them disappear from the hallway to lock the door on him and Jeonghan.

Jeonghan follows Jisoo with his eyes while he pulls a backpack out from a closet in the back of the practice room and unzips it, immediately revealing what Jeonghan considers to be heaven in the form of snacks and drinks.

“Mingyu is dumb and has no way of watching us to make sure we’re actually doing our punishment, so there’s no point in doing it because he’s probably already asleep at the dorms by now.” Jisoo says listlessly, opening a family-sized bag of honey butter chips. “Seungcheol, he’s a senior but he’s been training for _forever_ so he’s not in our group, let me in on his secret stash.”

Jeonghan reaches for a chip, and Jisoo moves the bag so that it’s in between the two of them while he continues. “I think he’s only nice to me because we’re the same age, though. Speaking of which, how old are you? Unless you’re not willing to tell me that either.”

Jeonghan shifts uncomfortably, still not too sure why Jisoo’s being so _nice_ to him when they only just met. “1995.” He mumbles to no one in particular.

“Cool, same age then,” Jisoo grins and opens a can of cola. “By the way, you don’t have to worry about Mingyu. He’s just got a dumb superiority complex because he’s been here longer than most of us.”

Jeonghan shrugs. “He’s not that bad.”

Jisoo laughs, motioning for Jeonghan to take a sip of his cola. “See, now that’s where you’re wrong. Mingyu is a dick through-and-through.”

Jisoo extends his hand in front of Jeonghan, smiling. “Let’s be friends. We can defeat the ugly giant together.”

“Friends,” Jeonghan echoes. “It’s a bit soon for that, don’t you think?” Jeonghan turns and blushes into his hands and prays that Jisoo doesn’t notice that he’s flustered.

“I’ll just hang around you 24/7 for the rest of the time we’re here until you accept me as a friend, then. Maybe we’ll even debut together.”

Jeonghan just shakes his head and laughs at the boy sitting next to him in the baby blue shirt, but when they walk back to the dorms and Jeonghan gets assigned to the bunk on top of Jisoo’s, he makes sure that Jisoo is in their room when he calls his mom that night and tells her that she doesn’t have to worry and that he’s doing just fine, because he made a friend named Jisoo from LA who’s the same age as him and likes honey butter chips just like he does.

 

-

 

It’s the beginning of March, the transition between winter and spring, when they finish promoting in Japan, finally being allowed time to rest after nearly a month of concerts and fan events. The weather outside had just started to get warmer, the kind of days where it was freezing in the morning, cold enough to freeze water in a nanosecond, but then by the end of the day the temperature was nearing thirty degrees, arguably hot enough to give someone as stamina-lacking as Jeonghan heatstroke.

Nevertheless, it’s the kind of weather Jeonghan likes best, because it gives him an excuse to steal Jisoo’s hoodies.

Today, he had woken up at 5AM just to dig through Jisoo’s luggage. As Jisoo slept soundly in his bed just five feet away from Jeonghan, loud snores cutting through the silence that had previously occupied their hotel room, Jeonghan frantically dug through his suitcase in search for a hoodie to wear. (It actually took quite a long time, because he’s worn most of the ones Jisoo had packed already since coming to Japan, and if he repeated an outfit, people would begin to notice and as a result, he would get busted by Jisoo.)

Finally reaching the bottom of the suitcase, and turning their shared hotel room into a mess in the process, Jeonghan finds a black hoodie with lettering across the front. The sleeves were slightly frayed at the ends due to Jisoo’s habit of pulling at loose threads when he was nervous, but Jeonghan didn’t mind. He found the habit cute, anyways. It was way too cold for Jeonghan to actually take off the shirt he slept with and change into a new one, so he just pulled the hoodie over it, slowly climbing into Jisoo’s bed so as to not disturb his sleep. He crosses his legs and sticks a finger into Jisoo’s ear. Jisoo doesn’t move an inch, just continues snoring, and Jeonghan’s heart softens for his best friend and his annoyingly-loud sinuses, just for a moment.

Quickly reverting back to his annoying, mischievous self, he whispers loudly to Jisoo, hot breath tickling his neck. “Hey, Shua. I stole this sweatshirt from you. It’s really comfortable. I just wanted to tell you while you were still asleep so you won’t kill me later. If you ask me later, I’ll just tell you that you gave me permission this morning, and then make fun of you for not remembering. Do you give me permission to wear your hoodie, Shua?”

Joshua responds with a snore and Jeonghan’s face lights up with happiness. “Thanks! I’ll be going now, sleep well Shua! I’ll be back in _exactly_ two hours with your wake up call,” Jeonghan sing-songs, skipping out of the room. Even though he knew for sure that Jisoo would be pissed to the point of psychopathic tendencies when he wakes up to Jeonghan’s obnoxious singing later, the thought of Jisoo wringing his neck in anger still did nothing to destroy his cheerfulness. He knew it was going to be a good day.

Grabbing a mask and a cap to conceal his identity and slipping on his tennis shoes, Jeonghan leaves their hotel room, carefully closing the door, shutting the sound of Jisoo’s tired snores out from the hallway. Making his way down the carpeted hallway, Jeonghan stops in front of Soonyoung’s door, knocking once, twice, on the spruce wood. The door unlocks with a satisfying click, and Jeonghan’s greeted with a very tired Soonyoung, bare face swollen and hair still tousled from moving in his sleep.

“Your hair is sticking up in ten thousand different directions.” Jeonghan states bluntly, pulling at strands of Soonyoung's hair.

Soonyoung gives Jeonghan an annoyed look and nods, too tired to try and continue the conversation. His shared room with Seokmin is an absolute reflection of their two personalities, colorful socks carelessly strewn throughout the floor. A travel-sized karaoke machine sits in the corner next to a desk, and Jeonghan doesn’t even want to know why one of them thought it was necessary to bring _that_ along to their tour, let alone have the care to wonder how an item of that size had managed to get through customs.

Soonyoung grabs a comb from the basket of complimentary items the hotel staff had provided them with and attempts to control the mess that currently rested atop his head. After a few minutes of wincing in pain trying to fight the knots in his hair, he sighs in defeat and heads towards the door, motioning at Jeonghan to follow him.

“I’m ready, let’s hit the breakfast bar.”

Jeonghan follows behind him, significantly more awake. The hallway smells vaguely of old carpet and the chlorine from the pool downstairs and the leaves of several fake plants brush against Jeonghan’s arm and irritates his skin as they make their way towards the elevator.

Jeonghan pokes Soonyoung’s sides at an attempt to wake him up and make him appear more alive. (He knows he will eventually, because Soonyoung likes to drink his morning coffee with four shots of espresso, but he needs the entertainment, especially since they’re the only two members awake right now.) Soonyoung starts to giggle, and he punches Jeonghan in the shoulder. “That’s not fair. You can’t tickle me if you _know_ I’m crazy ticklish.”

Jeonghan tilts his head in fake confusion. “You? Ticklish? _Never_ ,” he scoffs and sarcastically adds, “Plus, I’m pretty sure using other people’s weaknesses against them is exactly what wins wars. It’s written somewhere in _The Art of War._ ”

“You better watch yourself, Yoon Jeonghan,” Soonyoung glares at Jeonghan, tiger eyes filled with fierceness. Sliding his index finger across his neck he threatens, “You never know what’s coming.”

As soon as he says this, the elevator doors open with a _ding,_ and Soonyoung swiftly sticks out his leg, trying to trip Jeonghan as he walks out into the main lobby of their hotel.

“Nice try, Soonie,” Jeonghan calmly walks over his outstretched leg and closes his eyes, while simultaneously raising his arms in a celebration of victory.

When he opens his eyes, however, Soonyoung is long gone.

Jeonghan spots him hovering over a basket filled with fresh croissants. As he walks closer, his nose fills with the scent of fresh strawberry jam and buttery pastries, and he begins understand why Soonyoung looks as if he is one second away from launching his entire body into the basket.

“Soonyoung, you forgot to take a plate,” He grabs a plate from the bottom of the counter and places it in front of Soonyoung, who’s currently very preoccupied with trying to smear as much strawberry jam on his croissant as possible. Soonyoung mutters a thank you, and grabs another pastry from the basket, this time attempting to break the world record for the most amount of butter you can place on one item in under a minute.

Jeonghan calmly picks up a croissant, unlike Soonyoung, whose arms are still waving around furiously trying to coat the surface of his pastry with butter, and opts for the strawberry jam. When Soonyoung finishes trying to beat the speed of light in a race of dexterity, he tries to put the lid back on the tub of butter, but his hands slip and the lid clatters on the counter, earning stares from other hotel guests.

Soonyoung flashes them an apologetic smile, and moves forward to the espresso machine. Just like Jeonghan predicted, he adds exactly five shots of espresso to his coffee, no creamer or sugar, and moves to sit down at a large table in the back.

Jeonghan stays at the machine and grabs a mug, watching the machine grind down the coffee beans into a mocha powder. Slowly, black coffee starts to drip into the cup, the smell reminding him of lazy mornings spent in their dorm, with Jisoo and Seungcheol joking around next to him while Mingyu cooks ramen for thirteen at the stove. He adds one pump of sweet syrup into his black coffee and joins Soonyoung at the table, chair softly scraping against the wood floor as he pulls the seat out from under the table. Soonyoung’s mug is half empty already, and his leg is bouncing softly against the floor in rhythmic thumps. He’s clearly regained his energy by now, so Jeonghan starts a conversation with him as they wait for the rest of the members to wake up and make their way to breakfast.

(Minus Jisoo, of course, who Jeonghan wants to wake up himself.)

“How do you think we did for our first tour in Japan? Any regrets?” Jeonghan inquires, taking a bite of his croissant. It gives a satisfying crunch as his teeth clamp down, and Jeonghan’s mouth fills with the contrasting flavors of warm, buttery pastry and sugary jam.

“Things we could’ve done better… think…” Soonyoung attempts to reply with a mouth full of his breakfast, crumbs flying out of his mouth as he speaks. He swallows. “And stop being so formal with me. What is this, a business brunch?”

Jeonghan reaches across the table and slaps Soonyoung in the arm, forcing him to drop his croissant. “How many times do I have to remind you that rapid food consumption leads to an upset stomach?”

Soonyoung swallows. “Enough times that I hear it in my nightmares.”

Jeonghan laughs dryly. “Funny.” He shoots Soonyoung a warning look, but it does nothing as the younger immediately begins to shove food in his mouth again, chewing loud enough for the entire room to hear.

“What about you,” Soonyoung pauses to take a sip of coffee. “Any regrets?”

Jeonghan grins and shakes his head, thumb running across the surface of his coffee mug. “Nah, I’m happy. I think I did as well as I could’ve done. You should stop being so hard on yourself, Soonyoung.” He points at Soonyoung with the end of his spoon, raising an eyebrow.

Soonyoung laughs. “That’s easy for you to say. You have 90% of the Japanese female population wrapped around your finger.”

“It’s not my fault I was born with good looks and a great shoulder-to-waist ratio,” Jeonghan retorts, happy from the ego boost.

“Did you notice everyone started calling you Hani-sama? People think you’re the equivalent of high royalty _._ I’m so jealous.” Jeonghan giggles, covering his mouth when he realizes there’s a piece of pastry stuck in between his teeth.

“You should listen to our fans, you know, and start treating me like a prince. From now on, I never should have to put my feet on the floor ever again. Wonwoo can carry me around places, Mingyu can be my private chef, and Seungcheol can be my servant.”

“And Jisoo your prince charming,” Soonyoung finishes for Jeonghan.

Jeonghan blushes. “You know we’re not like that.” Jisoo is his best friend, always has been. Jeonghan could never think of him as anything more than that.

“Are you sure?” Soonyoung jokes, and Jeonghan nods. He doesn’t make anything more of it, and Jeonghan stops thinking about it, pushing the topics of their conversation far back into the depths of his head when Seungcheol walks up to their table with a plate full of deserts and two cups of coffee.

Jeonghan eyes his plate and scoffs. “Really, Seungcheol? You’re going to consume _that_ much sugar along with two cups of coffee? Are you sure that’s safe?”

Seungcheol plops down onto the chair next to Jeonghan and throws him a look of exasperation. “Yes, Jeonghan, I’m really going to consume _this_ much sugar with two cups of coffee,” He remarks, clearly irritated, emphasizing the same words that Jeonghan had emphasized to get under his skin.

Jeonghan shrugs, licking the excess jam off of his knife, twirling the utensil around in his mouth to savor as much of the sweetness as possible. “Suit yourself. If you suddenly go into cardiac arrest later today, don’t expect me to call an ambulance.”

Seungcheol lets out a sigh, knuckles turning a milky white as he grasps his fork. “Jeonghan, the reason why I’m going to drink two cups of coffee is because I need as much artificial energy as possible to deal with your tiring ass all day,” He looks like he’s two seconds away from slitting Jeonghan’s throat with the breakfast knife that sits next to his right arm.

Jeonghan remains unfazed, Seungcheol’s harsh words going in one ear and immediately out the other.

“Well, there, that wasn’t so hard, now was it? Now that you’ve given me the reason, I’ll let you have your desserts and coffee.” He sing-songs, grabbing a raspberry scone from Seungcheol’s plate and shoving it into his already-full mouth. “Eat up, Coups-ya~ Like you said, you’ll need the energy to deal with me!”

“I thought I was supposed to be the leader, not you. I need to knock some sense into you, you delinquent.” Seungcheol complains. He tries to reach over and choke Jeonghan for being so insufferable at six in the morning, but he misses and instead knocks over Jeonghan’s coffee.

The drink lands on the table and spills with a satisfying splash all over Soonyoung’s shirt, the sound of ceramic hitting polished wood and a slew of profanities interrupting the conversations at the tables next to them.

“Shit!” Soonyoung curses. “That shirt was new, too. Thanks a lot, our _reliable_ leader.”

Seungcheol gives Soonyoung a look of genuine remorse and picks up a tissue to wipe at his chest, earning disapproving looks from the businessmen at the table next to them, their untailored suits as wrinkled as their foreheads.  _Just wait until the rest of the kids come,_ Jeonghan thinks to himself. _Then they’ll really be in for a treat._

The fading brown stain on Soonyoung’s dress shirt and the sweat starting to form on Seungcheol’s forehead from vigorously rubbing at the cloth on his shirt is Jeonghan’s cue to leave. He gets up, taps both of them on their shoulders, and points towards the elevator.

“I have to wake Shua up. Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone.”

Seungcheol laughs, a chuckle booming from deep within the pits of his stomach. “Oh, I _won’t._ ”

When he arrives on the second floor, Jeonghan throws open the door to his and Jisoo’s hotel room, door slamming against the eggshell walls as he screams at the top of his lungs for Jisoo to wake up.

Suddenly, something soft lands on his head and all Jeonghan sees is pitch-black darkness. While he reaches his hand up to his head and touches the soft cotton of a bath towel, a hand stretches out from next to him and punches him, _hard,_ in the ribs.

“Nice try, dumbass, I’m already awake.” The hand slowly pulls the towel off of Jeonghan’s head and when Jeonghan’s vision returns, he sees Jisoo standing in front of him, smug with his hands on his hips. His hair was wet from a morning shower, water dripping from his hair onto his face like morning dew.

Jeonghan smells something familiar, so he takes one step closer to Jisoo and sniffs his face. “No way. I knew it.” He

throws Jisoo a knowing look, eyes telling him _You’re busted_ , but Jisoo only gives him a look of fake confusion.

“You used my cream. The one I specifically told you _not_ to use.”

Jisoo grins, eager with victory. It isn’t everyday that Yoon Jeonghan gets out-played.

“Yes, I did. Thank you for leaving it out, by the way. My pores have shrunk already, and I feel like four gallons of spring water from heaven are moisturizing my face.”

Jeonghan whines, repeatedly throwing punches at Jisoo’s chest.

“ _Shua,_ ” he says, putting extra emphasis on the last syllable. “I bought that for _myself._ It wasn’t yours to use, and now you’ve contaminated my cream. Now all of the bacteria on your face are going to make my face their new home and have lots of disgusting microorganism sex _on my face_ and it’ll cause all sorts of problems! I’ll lose all of my fans!” He wipes at a fake tear on his face, pouting.

“It’s way too early in the morning for you to be whining like this, Jeonghan. You really need to exercise some restraint on your complaining,” Jisoo remarks. He reaches for a shirt on the dresser Jeonghan was standing in front of, and _Thank God_ , he doesn’t notice that his clothes are all over the floor.

Jeonghan makes a mental note to clean up the mess he had made later. When Jisoo leans forward and grabs his shirt, the towel covering his upper half starts to slip, revealing both of his collarbones, skin still dewy from moisture. Jeonghan pokes Jisoo in his clavicle, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “You’ve lost weight.”

“Yeah, I have,” Jisoo smiles contently. Quickly putting on his shirt, he looks at Jeonghan, who’s still leaning against the drawer, intimidatingly staring at him.

“Jeonghan, stop watching me change. What are you, fourteen? I can practically feel you burning holes into my skin.”

Jeonghan laughs mockingly. “No way, this is such an honor. So many people would kill to be in my position.” Drawing invisible circles with his finger onto the surface of the furniture he giggles to himself, eyes lighting up with playfulness.

“Yah, I get to see your oppa naked every day. Are you jealous?” He jokes, tickling Jisoo’s underarms.

Jisoo laughs brightly, body convulsing as Jeonghan continues to tickle him, slender fingers running across his skin ceaselessly, causing Jisoo to jerk his entire body in an attempt to shake Jeonghan off. Jeonghan’s connection to him is iron, though, and he continues to torment Jisoo.

Knees buckling with both laughter and vanquish, Jisoo falls onto his bed, and Jeonghan follows, the mattress dipping as his body collides with the silk sheets.

“Of course, they probably have nothing to be jealous of. Even after all this time, you’re still built like a wooden plank,” Rolling on top of Jisoo, he pinches at his chest and slides his fingers along the bottom of his chin.

In between bouts of laughter, Jisoo hits Jeonghan in the biceps, trying to get him to stop. “Shut up.”

Jeonghan smirks and decides to relinquish his grip on a still-giggling Jisoo, lacing their fingers together.

“I win, Shua-ya.”

 

-

 

That same day they decide to go to a tea house in Tokyo’s countryside. The members are all eager to escape from the encumbrance of their otherwise busy and not-at-all private lives, if only for a few hours. The tea house sits at the end of a mostly deserted road, save for a few village-people and the occasional tourist.

The way to the establishment isn’t paved, and Jeonghan can hear the soft tapping of rubber soles hitting worn cobblestone and gravel as they walk towards the tea house. Tall grass stalks sway in the gentle breeze, and Jeonghan pulls a dandelion from the ground, blowing the seeds into Seungcheol’s hair. Seungcheol doesn’t notice, but Seokmin does, and his entire face illuminates with a grin.

Jeonghan curses Seokmin in his head, because his amusement is _extremely_ obvious, which makes Seungcheol turn around and give Jeonghan a deterrent look.

Jeonghan shrugs. “What? I didn’t do anything,” Seungcheol makes eye contact with Seokmin as if to ask him _Is he telling the truth?_ and Seokmin nods. (Only after Jeonghan reaches a hand behind him and pinches him in the ass.)

Village children skip rocks on a small pond while grandparents keep a watchful eye, swatting away mayflies as they fly a little too close to their faces for their liking. A large mountain overlooks the entire village, piercing through thick white cumulus clouds. As they near the tiny building, Jeonghan notices a field full of orange osmanthus flowers, their colors so vibrant he can almost taste the honeyed juice of fresh citrus on the tip of his tongue, sweet and inviting.

He grabs Jisoo’s wrist and points towards the flowers, his eyes still drinking in their beauty.

“Shua-ya, look how pretty the flowers are,” Jisoo, of course, is just thirsty from all the walking and gives the flowers an indifferent look. He still looks -- probably for the sake of Jeonghan because if he doesn’t, Jeonghan will whine and complain about how bad of a best friend he is all day. He ends up picking two particularly symmetrical flowers from the field anyways, and tucks one behind Jeonghan’s ear, putting the other one behind his own.

Jeonghan is beyond contented at Jisoo’s actions, and he grins, eyes sparkling honey brown in the sunlight. He runs off to Seungcheol, who’s leading the way, and starts bragging in that annoying, child-like way of his. “Cheol, look what Jisoo gave me~ Isn’t it pretty?” He points to the flower behind his ear, the tips of his ears flushing pink with delight.

“Yes, Jeonghan, it’s lovely,” Seungcheol answers idly. They had arrived in front of the tea house, and he’s way too focused on counting all the members to make sure none of them had gotten lost on the way, which is can happen when you’re in a boy group with an average mental age of two.

Jeonghan audibly gasps as he looks over the building. The wooden structure sits directly on the cobblestone, thatched roof painted a soft periwinkle. Hundreds of emerald vines climb along the side of the building and up the angular roof, constructed with strong _hinoki_ wood. Water from the roof slides down the concave contours of the roof and catches in a bucket, the steady _drip-drip_ of water droplets almost hypnotic. Soft moss cushions Jeonghan’s feet, sinking ever so slightly into the grey cobblestone as he makes his way to the door, mud sticking to the rubber soles of his shoes like viscous bubblegum.

“It’s so pretty,” He whispers to himself as he watches the members file into the tiny building, taking off their shoes and placing them side-by-side outside of the door as a sign of respect.

Before they enter, they wash their hands and rise their mouths in a stone basin, purifying themselves before the tea-tasting. The inside of the tea house is significantly more modernized than the exterior. A folding _shoji_ screen partitions the tea house into four tiny booths, the intimacy making it feel cozy and homely. Large glass windows surround the entire structure, golden rays of afternoon sun peek into the building, kissing the floor with warmth.

When Jeonghan looks out the glass, he can see some customers sitting on wicker chairs, while some lean against the tall railings of the veranda, fingers clasped around lukewarm porcelain ware. Life had always seemed simpler in the countryside, the tranquil lifestyles of the village people more preferable to Jeonghan than the busy life he lives in Seoul. He feels like a kid again watching the village children run around with bug catchers, soles of their tiny feet slapping against the hard cobblestone as they chase after dragonflies.

The feeling of being at-ease 24/7 is what Jeonghan misses the most, he thinks.

Seungcheol notices Jeonghan watching the children, and he smiles fondly at him, tenderly placing a hand on the soft cotton of his (Jisoo’s) hoodie.

“You have such a soft spot for kids, you know,” Seungcheol mutters to Jeonghan while chaos transpires behind him.

The eleven others are currently engaged in a full-blown brawl over seat cushions, eleven pairs of limbs knotting and tangling together as they attempt to fit into the tiny booth. Mingyu knocks over an empty tea cup, and the porcelain shatters on the floor. He bows to the storeowner as she grabs a broom from the back room, sweeping the _tatami_ mat clean of debris. He quickly returns to fighting again, however, because in the time that he wasted apologizing for his clumsy mistake, the cushion he had claimed had now made its home under Chan’s ass.

“I really don’t. I absolutely despise kids of all ages. Just the thought of talking to one makes me age 20 years on the spot,” Jeonghan disagrees, calmly sitting down on a cushion that, apparently, the rest of the members were blind enough to not even notice. Next to him, Wonwoo and Soonyoung are playing _cham-cham-cham_ over the seat beside him. He rolls his eyes at their immaturity.

Seungcheol, still standing, scoffs. “You kiss every member goodnight individually _every single day,_ you refuse to shower until everyone else has gone first _every single day_ , and you look at all of the kids,” Seungcheol points to the other members who are still fighting over seats. He should probably intervene, but after being together with them for nearly six years now, he knows it’s in his best interest to let the fight just fizzle out on its own. (Unless, of course, he was looking to get mauled and develop a level three concussion.)  

“Like they’re God’s greatest gift to you. Whether you admit it or not, you’re a proud father of eleven kids, minus me, of course, because I’m the leader and you can’t defeat me, and you _like_ kids,” Seungcheol finishes, clearly proud of his statement of facts.

Jeonghan just shakes his head. Mingyu’s arm nearly pokes his eye out when he swings back to punch Seokmin in the arm, and he and Seungcheol share a look of vanquish.

“I think it’s time to admit our defeat. I’m going in. If I die in there, tell the CEO I leave the leadership duties to you,” Seungcheol nods and salutes Jeonghan, shoulders high as he walks directly into the center of the brawl. Pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, he starts to grab the members by their collars one by one, lifting them up and forcing them into cushions, despite the loud protests.

“Aw, Seungcheol, you’re no fun,” Soonyoung yells, and the rest of the members cheer in concurrence.

“Party pooper,” Seungkwan mumbles, still kicking at Seokmin’s feet away from Seungcheol’s line of sight.

“Do you kids not realize that you’ve just disturbed an _entire_ village with your incessant yelling and fighting over seat cushions? What’s the point? They’re all made of the same material anyway, not to mention the poor owner,” Seungcheol bows his head to the owner in the tea house with contrition, brows furrowed in guilt. “Has been standing here for fifteen minutes waiting for you all to calm down so she can serve us tea. You’re lucky we didn’t get kicked out, and you all know that you have your fame to thank for that. What’s going to stop these people from selling stories about us to a tabloid, huh? Do you really want a scandal on our hands right before our comeback?” By the time he finishes reprimanding them, Seungcheol’s cheeks are florid like garden roses, and his chest is rising and falling in short puffs.

The members swiftly stand up and bow to the employees that are serving them, all of their bodies bent in perfect ninety-degree angles. “We’re sorry for the trouble we caused!” They say in unison, holding their bow for another twenty seconds as a sign of their remorse.

“Yah, look at this asshole reprimanding his children. Seungcheol has no shame,” Jeonghan jokes, attempting to lighten the situation, but culpability still hangs heavily in the air, and the booth fills with a guilt-ridden silence.

“Excuse me, is everyone ready to begin the tea-tasting?” The owner inquires, carefully tapping Seungcheol’s shoulder as if she were scared that he would bite her finger off.

Seungcheol smiles politely, all traces of irritation disappearing from his face within a second. “Yes, we are, thank you.” He looks at the members one by one with an intense strength, warning them that if they pull something like that while they’re at the tea house again, he will personally murder each and every one of them in their sleep.

The owner begins, slender fingers running along the white porcelain teacups as she flips them over. She explains that the teacups have to be washed on the outside first, before the tea is poured in to drink. The cups rest on a wooden board, and Jeonghan runs his fingers along the intricate designs carved carefully along the sides.

The members are still quiet, so the owner tries to strike up some conversation.

“How has your stay in Japan been so far?” She asks, calmly pouring the boiling water over the teacups. The water falls out in a steady stream, rolling down the sides of the porcelain, making the cups glisten with moisture. Steam begins to rise into the air as the liquid meets with the wooden board while Jeonghan catches the vapor in his hands. Seungcheol gives him a weird look.

“What? It feels good,” Jeonghan explains, lifting his hand and allowing the tiny droplets to touch his skin once more. He tries to get Seungcheol to copy his actions, but he just shakes his head, used to Jeonghan’s anomalous behavior.

“Japan is delightful,” Seungcheol answers, ignoring Jeonghan and earning enthusiastic nods of agreement from the rest of the members. “We had nearly 50,000 people attend our tour, which is absolutely crazy to think about.”

The store owner nods, a whisper of a smile dancing across her face. “My niece is actually a big fan of you guys.” She says, blushing as she cleans the teacups a second time. Heat radiates off of the smooth porcelain, and Jeonghan is tempted to rub his finger against the smooth surface. He pushes away the intrusive thought, however, because he really doesn’t want to end his trip to Japan with a hospital visit due to third-degree burns.

“Really?” Seungcheol asks, pink gums showing as he grins with happiness.

“Yes,” The store owner points to Jeonghan, who’s still fighting off the urge to touch the steaming teacup. “Her favorite is him. His _uchiwas_ and posters are all over her room.”

Jeonghan blushes while Seungkwan protests loudly, claiming that _he should be her favorite member_ , and that _if she knew what Jeonghan’s personality at the dorm was like she wouldn’t even like him anymore._ Soonyoung slaps him in the arm.

“Seungkwan, you’ve placed last in visuals for two years in a row now, and you expect her to like you?” He laughs, recalling the events that had occurred just two weeks ago while they were filming One Fine Day. Seungkwan pouts, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You’re not too far off, _twelfth place._ ” He fights back, returning Soonyoung’s slap from earlier.

Their little argument helps lighten the mood, and some of the weight in the air has disappeared. The members are less tense, all teary-eyed and pink-cheeked with happiness as they laugh at Seungkwan and Soonyoung’s quarrel. The thirteen boys’ cheerfulness is infectious, and Jeonghan can see the corners of the store owner's lips turn up into a smile as she flips the teacups, wrists turning as she delicately places them upright on the wooden board. Tiny juniper tea leaves rustle as she pours them carefully into the bottoms of each cup, the natural scent of young _sencha_ leaves wafting through the air.

“In order for the flavor to infuse, The leaves have to sit in the water for two minutes,” The store owner explains, fingertips resting on a ceramic kettle.

While they wait, the members excitedly discuss their plans for the rest of their stay in Japan. Wonwoo just wants to stay at home and rest (Jeonghan concurs), Seokmin wants to go to an _udon_ restaurant, Soonyoung wants to try eating live octopus, and Seungcheol wants to take a day trip to the Tokyo Tower.

“Ooh, I want to go see the live action version of Haikyuu,” Seungkwan suggests. Seokmin’s eyes light up in agreement, and the proposition even piques Seungcheol’s interest.

Jihoon, however, is less than enthusiastic. (Or he’s pretending to be apathetic, which is more likely considering the fact that Jeonghan has caught him watching Haikyuu in his studio multiple times when he was supposed to be composing.) “And what’s going to stop you from jumping on the stage as soon as you see a play that you disagree with?” He huffs, earning a whine from Seungkwan. The members know the tendencies and habits Seungkwan adopts when he watches volleyball matches all too well.

“I promise I’ll behave. Seungcheol, can we please go tomorrow? I’ll even pay for everyone’s ticket,” Seungkwan offers, giving Seungcheol puppy eyes. He’s two seconds away from crying on demand when Seungcheol gives him a nod, accepting his plan.

“Sure. I guess it’s something we’d all enjoy, right?” Everyone nods, except for Jihoon, who’s staring hard enough at the wood table that Jeonghan thinks it could crack from the pressure. It doesn’t matter, though, because the flush that starts to appear on the tips of his ears is enough to show that he also agrees with the plan, no matter how much he tries to hide his enthusiasm.

“Just make sure you tell our managers before you order the tickets, so they can plan the transportation to and from the venue,” Seungcheol reminds Seungkwan, getting that leader-like glare in his eyes.

“Of course, Coups. Have a little more faith in me, won’t you?” Seungkwan scoffs.

The tea is served, hot steam filling the air while the sweet scent of diluted matcha leaves kisses on Jeonghan’s tongue as he drinks, knee resting against the side of Jisoo’s thigh.

“Let’s hit it big in 2018!” Seungcheol cheers, grinning happily at all of the members.

They toast with their teacups, wishing for success and an unbreakable bond as they lift the porcelain to the ceiling, golden sunbeams kissing their jade drinks as if the skies were granting their wishes.

Brushing his fingers along the side of Jisoo’s hand, Jeonghan whispers, “You know you’re my best friend, right?”

He’s unsure if the tea is changing the chemical levels in his brain or if he’s just more affectionate than usual today, but either way, it felt like the right thing to say.

“Of course,” Jisoo whispers back, placing his hand on top of Jeonghan’s, drawing circles into the back of his hand.

Jeonghan smiles. It felt right to sit in a too-small-for-13-people booth next to his best friend in the entire world as periwinkle _hinoki_ panels watched over them, songbirds singing their melodies under the new spring sun.

  
-

  
Jeonghan is walking back to the dorms with Jisoo when it suddenly started snowing, fat white snowflakes falling down from the sky and sticking to Jeonghan’s eyelashes the way morning dew sticks to grass. They had just finished practicing choreography for a showcase that would be broadcasted on 17TV, as a gift to their fans. The sky was particularly dark that night, as if someone took a paintbrush and coated the entire sky with a thick, black paint. It was the kind of darkness that makes people get all existential and wonder about their existence on the Earth. The dim glow of street signs and the flickering of Christmas lights provided some comfort for the both of them.

Though they would never admit it out loud, they both did have quite a fear of walking alone in the dark.

  
It’s a lot colder outside than Jeonghan had thought it would be, and he mentally punches himself in the face for being arrogant and walking out of their dorm that morning with nothing but a t-shirt and a thin hoodie, stolen from Jisoo’s ever-growing collection of sweatshirts. He decides with conviction that the next time they’re free, he will force Jisoo to go shopping with him, because he always seems to have the comfiest sweatshirts. (Deep down, Jeonghan knows that within a week, he’ll resort to stealing Jisoo’s sweatshirts again, because he can’t help his kleptomania.)

Plus, they always smell like Jisoo; of lavender and honey, sunrises and Americanos.

“Shua, it’s so cold, if we stay out here any longer my ears are going to fall off, and you’ll have to pick up my bloody detached ear, put it in ice, and then bring it to the hospital so they can sew it back on,” Jeonghan smirks at Jisoo, poking at his sides.

  
Jisoo smiles in return, eyes turning into crescent moons. “Didn’t Seungcheol tell you this morning to bundle up? Serves you right for not listening to him,” He giggles, and for a moment, Jeonghan thinks that there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. He may be freezing cold and only seconds away from developing frostbite and dying, but for right now, walking next to his best friend and teasing him in an empty Seoul alleyway is enough to keep him warm.

“Since when did you get so ruthless? You’ve been spending way too much time with Mingyu. I told you he had a foul personality!” Jeonghan pouts at Jisoo. Jeonghan starts to pull on a loose thread hanging from the sleeve of his hoodie, before remembering that it’s actually Jisoo’s. He turns his head and checks to make sure Jisoo didn’t see. (If he had noticed, he would’ve killed Jeonghan in his sleep for destroying his hoodie. Jisoo had always been protective of his clothing, though he never seemed to notice when Jeonghan stole his hoodies.)

  
Jisoo doesn’t notice, and instead opts to flash his gloved hands in front of Jeonghan’s face, waving them back in forth in an elaborate attempt to one-up Jeonghan. He doesn’t have to say anything afterwards, because Jeonghan’s deepening pout and the pink flush that has started to adorn his cheeks tells him that he received Jisoo’s message loud and clear.

  
“Jisoo, I’m freezing! Are you just going to let me, your best friend and lifelong companion die? How are you ever going to survive in Seoul without me? I am your slave, there to bring you water whenever you need it, I’m the only one that knows how to make your coffee correctly, _and_ I’m your go-to pocket Korean dictionary! If you let me die here in the cold, all of that is _poof_! Gone!” Jeonghan starts to tug on the sleeve of Jisoo’s jacket. The wool is soft and melts underneath Jeonghan’s fingertips. If this were a shoujo manga, it was the type of jacket that you’d expect the boy to place on top of the girl’s shoulders, magically making her fall in love with him.

“Jeonghan, most days you won’t even lend me an extra 1,000 won to pay for a subway ticket,” Jisoo says dully. Jeonghan pointedly ignores him.

  
Instead, Jeonghan makes eye contact with Jisoo and exaggerates a shiver when a snowflake falls on his eyelashes, just for good measure. Jisoo sighs and his eyes crinkle again, twinkling under the constellations above them.

Jisoo takes off his earmuffs and gently places them on Jeonghan’s head, hands moving slowly and carefully, tucking hairs that had started to stick up back into place. He removes his gloves, shaking his head with fondness as he does so, and hands them to Jeonghan. When Jeonghan puts them on, he puts his hand in Jeonghan’s gloved one, and pulls him closer. Jeonghan feels the warmth radiating from Jisoo’s body enveloping him, creating a blanket of coziness that hugs every inch of his body.

  
“You know, Yoon Jeonghan, sometimes I think you do things just so you can hold my hand,” Jisoo grins at Jeonghan. The corners of his mouth curl up as he gives Jeonghan a knowing look.

  
Jeonghan adopts a look of fake shock and he glares at Jisoo, promptly hitting him across the chest. “Of course not, Shua. I’m not that desperate! How could you think for even a second that I have ulterior motives when in reality I’m just really fucking cold?” He takes note of how Jisoo’s ears pink in embarrassment.

  
“Ow, asshole, that really fucking hurt,” Jisoo’s hand instinctively goes to touch the injured part of his chest, wincing in exaggerated pain.

  
“It’s what you deserve,” Jeonghan says matter-of-factly, but he attempts to comfort Jisoo anyways, placing his smaller hand on top of Jisoo’s, transferring some of the warmth from his glove onto Jisoo’s frozen hand.

  
They walk down the pavement, and occasionally they hear the echoes of laughter from drunk men, careless and boisterous. Though Jeonghan and Jisoo take this road when they walk back to the dorm together every night, Jeonghan’s never really taken the time to appreciate Seoul in the late hours of night. The city never really seems to go completely silent, and there’s almost an ever-present feeling of company beside him. The buzzing of fluorescent street signs accompanies choruses of laughter from teenage girls, youthful and worry-free as they walk out of karaoke rooms. The scent of jjajjangmyeon lingers through the streets, long after street vendors have retired home to their families. When they stop in front of a familiar gray building, it takes Jeonghan a second to realize that they’ve made it to the front doors of their dorm, but he’s no longer tired.

He wants to take Jisoo somewhere.

  
“Come on, I want to show you something,” Jeonghan smiles at Jisoo as if to reassure him. _I’m not going to suddenly reveal to you that after three years of friendship I’m actually an axe murderer and then proceed to chop your head off._

 _  
_ Jisoo nods, and flashes him a quick smile. “Thank God, I wasn’t that tired anyways. I was really not looking forward to hearing Seokmin order takeout in his sleep for the third night in a row.”

  
Jeonghan looks up to the sky. The snowflakes have started to descend at a much faster rate, and the white crystals have started to stick to Jisoo’s hair. The tip of Jisoo’s nose is pink, flush from the freezing temperatures of Seoul in the wintertime. For a moment, Jeonghan feels bad for stealing his gloves and earmuffs, but revenge is sweet, and he enjoys watching Jisoo suffer in the cold. After all, it’s only what he deserves for flaunting his warmth in front of Jeonghan.

  
When they step inside of the building, they’re immediately hugged by warm air flowing from the heaters that line the perimeter of the room. The cozy lighting is a stark contrast to the empty darkness outside, and the newly-painted cream walls remind Jeonghan of home. He can still see half-full coffee cups on the tables of the first-floor café, the scent of unfinished iced Americanos and tiramisu as sweet as Jisoo’s presence beside him.

  
“Hey, dumbass, wake up. Where are we going?” Jisoo punctuates his sentence with a flick to Jeonghan’s forehead.

  
Jeonghan grabs Jisoo’s wrist and pulls him forward, towards the direction of their dorm. “We’re going to grab a few things and then go up to the roof.” He flashes a cheshire-cat grin at Jisoo, knowing full well that he had no knowledge of Jeonghan’s secret hiding place until today.

  
“We have a roof?” Jisoo turns his head in confusion, then proceeds to look up at the ceiling as if he has x-ray vision and can see through three floors to the building’s rooftop.

  
“Yes, Shua, we do. You’re the first person I’ve ever brought up there, so you better keep it a secret, or else I’ll push you off the roof the next time I take you up there,” Jeonghan giggles at Jisoo’s flushed cheeks. He really does get flustered so easily. It makes teasing him that much more fun.

“So, _the roof,_ ” Jisoo exaggerates, “Translates to your secret hiding spot where you occasionally go to cry?”

“Of course not, I’m no weak bitch.”

  
They navigate through the hallways as quietly as they can, knowing full-well that if anybody caught them they would be promptly asked to report to the CEO’s office, and then they would get chewed out both for being out too late, and for disturbing their bosses’ precious beauty sleep. Jeonghan admires their CEO for valuing sleep just as much as he does. They’re similar only in the sense that both of them would rather cut off their arms and legs than sacrifice one minute of sleep.

  
When they enter the dorm, all of the members are already asleep. They both tip-toe through the dorm, careful not to wake any of them up. The entire room is filled with a hushed silence, and Jeonghan can smell the familiar scent of his berry shampoo. He makes a mental note to beat up all eleven of them for using his shampoo even when it’s clearly labelled “Jeonghan’s shampoo, DO NOT TOUCH!”, not to mention the countless times he’s warned them not to use his shampoo even when he was gone, but for now, he lets them sleep. He and Jisoo both know better than anyone how much of a physical toll six hours of back-to-back practices can have on one's body.

When Jeonghan steps past Seungcheol, however, he has to do a double take. The elder is clad in a matching pyjama set, and childish illustrations of stars run up and down his entire body. He quickly gets Jisoo’s attention and wordlessly points to his matching star pyjamas, trying his hardest to conceal his giggles.

“Shua, look at Seungcheol’s pyjamas, he looks like he’s two years old,” The corners of Jisoo’s lips turn up and he covers his mouth, shoulders shaking as he silently laughs to himself about Seungcheol’s childish sleepwear. Jeonghan quickly takes out his phone and snaps a few pictures of Seungcheol’s sleeping body, and he laughs once more to himself. If he’s feeling nice, he’ll just keep the pictures between himself and the other members.

But it’s nice to know that he has blackmail material, even if he never ends up using it.

  
Jeonghan opens the door to his shared bedroom with Jisoo, and winces when the door creaks. He reaches behind him and taps Jisoo on the shoulder. “Did that wake anyone up?”

Jisoo shakes his head. “You should know better than that, Jeonghan. All of them sleep like logs. Seokmin’s halfway through his takeout order and Seungcheol’s snoring every two seconds. You’re good.”

Jeonghan snorts. “Stop making me laugh when I’m trying to be quiet! If we were two world class criminals on a heist you would’ve gotten us arrested, you absolute dick.” He walks over to their bunk bed and throws Jisoo’s blanket at him, unaware of the fact that it landed smack on his face.

Voice muffled by the sudden presence of heavy cotton sheets on his face, Jisoo groans. “Why is that even the first comparison that comes to your mind, you kleptomaniac? And you could’ve at least given me a warning before you tried to suffocate me with my own blanket.”

  
“I’m sorry Shua, do you need me to kiss it better?” Jeonghan speaks as if he’s talking to a one-day old baby, voice getting all high-pitched at the end of every syllable.

His bliss is short-lived, however, because Jisoo quickly removes the heavy blanket from his face and punches Jeonghan, hard, right in the bicep.

  
“Fuck!” Jeonghan whisper-screams. “That’s so going to leave a mark, if you just dislocated my shoulder I’m actually going to hate you for the rest of my life,” He glares at Jisoo. “Hurry up, this isn’t the fucking tortoise and the hare, hand me my blanket and we’ll go.”

  
Jisoo raises his arm slightly above his chest, motioning to Jeonghan that he can and will punch him if he doesn’t stop being a whiny brat. “You’re the one who’s acting dramatic; you can’t even handle a single punch from your best friend. Not to mention, I don’t _know_ what you’re doing. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been blindly following _you_ for the past twenty minutes so maybe _you_ should hurry up.”

Just as Jisoo says this, Jeonghan smashes his toe against the leg of their bunk bed. Jisoo laughs out loud, unable to contain his laughter.

“You seriously look so pathetic right now. Jeonghan, meet my friend karma.” Jeonghan’s face is beet-red from both desperately trying to hold in his screams of pain and trying to stifle his serious urge to take Jisoo by the neck and choke him to death for laughing at his suffering. He decides, instead, to calmly flip him off.

Immediately after, they hear a voice coming from the hallway, slurred with doziness. “Jisoo… and Jeonghan, can you please… take your lover’s quarrel elsewhere? We’re trying… to sleep.” When Jeonghan sticks his head out of the doorframe to see who it is, all he sees is a bright blue leg covered in white stars. He bursts out laughing, eyes watering due to his inability to stifle his giggles.

“Sure, Cheol, we’ll leave. Do you need your pacifier? Or do you need your two-o-clock nap? Let me know if you need anything, sweetie.” Still sitting on the floor with his right hand clutching his right foot in pain, Jeonghan sticks out his left leg and trips Seungcheol, allowing his half-asleep body to fall onto his bed with a soft thump. He then grabs Jisoo by the wrist and they run as fast as they can without waking anyone else up, and they start walking up to the roof.

  
Halfway up the stairs, Jeonghan realizes that he’s forgotten something. “Wait, Shua. I’m going downstairs again to smuggle a cup of coffee. Do you want one?” Jisoo nods. “Yeah, of course, hot Americano, two pumps of-”

  
“Syrup and one milk,” Jeonghan finishes. “How could you question my abilities like that, Jisoo? You know I’m the only one that can make your coffee correctly!” He looks back at Jisoo, flashes him a quick grin and hops down the stairs, gradually slowing his pace as he gets closer to the espresso machine.

All of the lights are turned off now, signifying that everyone else in the building was asleep besides him and Jisoo. Oddly enough, Jeonghan finds comfort in that. There’s a level of childish accomplishment that he feels from being the last one awake, kind of like the happiness his 5-year-old self felt when his mom told him he could stay up past his bedtime for the first time. 

  
Jeonghan’s movements are swift and experienced, refined from months of taking the members’ coffee orders. He opens a bag of coffee beans and his nose is pleasantly greeted with the smell of freshly-ground coffee beans. Before he gives into his intrusive thoughts and snorts a line of ground coffee, Jeonghan quickly turns on the espresso machine, jumping a little when the steam starts to hiss. Watching the coffee slowly drip into the mug is so therapeutic and calming that Jeonghan briefly loses all sense of movement and he burns his hand on the side of the mug. He bites down on his lip, trying his best not to let out a string of cuss words that he’s sure everyone in the building would not like to wake up to.

  
Before he can harm himself any further, Jeonghan grabs the two mugs with deftness that would be expected from an experienced barista, not from a 19-year-old broke boygroup hopeful.

  
When he finally makes it back to the roof, Jisoo is sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes half shut and heavy-lidded with drowsiness. The snow has started to stick on the ground, crunching like autumn leaves as Jeonghan makes his way to the blanket that’s been carefully placed on the floor of the roof. He looks at Jisoo for a split second before tapping him on the shoulder. He looks so exhausted that even Jeonghan starts to feel a hint of pity for him.

  
“Hey, you.” Jeonghan hands Jisoo’s coffee to him, giving him a gentle half-smile. Their fingers brush against each other for a brief second when Jisoo reaches for the Americano, red caressing the tips of his fingers as cold meets warm. He pulls off the glove from his right hand and holds it in front of Jisoo’s face, shoulders slowly rising with amusement.

  
“Look, I burned myself making your coffee. It hurts like a bitch.”

  
Jisoo smiles. His eyes are now completely closed, and snowflakes have started to stick to his lashes like morning dew. “I told you karma was out to get you today, idiot.” His brows still furrow in concern though, arms tensing as he opens his eyes and looks at Jeonghan’s finger.

“Does it still hurt?”

  
Jeonghan shakes his head, resting his head on Jisoo’s shoulder. He can feel the tension releasing from Jisoo’s body, shoulders lax with sleep as he allows himself to relax, only seconds away from falling asleep himself. Jisoo leans into Jeonghan’s touch, pressing the side of his body against Jeonghan, allowing the heat of their bodies to create an aura of tranquil.

They both sit in silence for a while, allowing the lull of sleepiness to take over. Snow continues to fall soundlessly, gently falling onto the bare trees below them, covering up branches like the insulted blanket that rests on top of their bodies. Jisoo stares at the stars, and Jeonghan smiles fondly as he watches him, thinking about how his eyes look like uncharted maps as they fill with the reflection of constellations. He finds comfort in the fact that Jisoo will always be there for him, ever-present like the ten fingers on his hands.

His best friend Jisoo, never anything more, who’s as sweet as the syrup that he likes to mix into his coffee.

  
“Shua, do you think we’ll ever debut?” Jeonghan’s voice cuts through the silence that had previously occupied the space between them. They’re stuck inside the snowglobe that is Seoul in the wintertime, and the heavy blankets wrapped around him and Joshua suddenly didn’t seem so warm anymore. He shivers, his body’s attempt to shake off his doubts and worries before he screws up and overshares to Jisoo.

  
Just an hour earlier, their CEO had entered their practice room, announcing that their debut has been delayed for another few months. (They all know what he really means is another year.) Jeonghan had pretended not to see the tears well up in Jisoo’s eyes, like boiling water threatening to spill and bubble over a pot. The rest of the members all had their heads hung, as if an invisible burden had suddenly been placed atop their shoulders, pushing their heads towards the ground.

It hurts Seungcheol the most, he thinks. The eldest tries to hide it in front of all the members, but Jeonghan’s always been good at reading other people’s emotions. Seungcheol’s eyes were an ocean full of dejection, warm mocha eyes turning into bitter black coffee. Some nights Jeonghan pretends not to hear Seungcheol crying in their dorm when he thinks everyone is asleep.

Jeonghan pretends that it’s normal to expect the words _I’m sorry, not yet._ from their CEO, that it’s okay, _all groups have to go through this before debut_ , but his presence has become only a reminder of broken promises and delayed dreams.

Jeonghan’s dream is the Universe, and he pretends like the stars in the Universe that make up his dream -- his glittering promises and hopes of debut -- don’t burn out every time they hear the four words _I’m sorry, not yet_ and when he’s greeted with darkness when Soonyoung flips the light switch in their practice room after their dream gets shot down.

His dream is the Universe, but Universes can’t shine without the incandescence of stars.

  
“…Jeonghan?” Jisoo’s voice snaps him back into reality.

  
Jeonghan touches his cheek, and feels moisture next to his nose. _Great._ He let his guard down and now he’s crying in front of Jisoo. This is why he shouldn’t be allowed to be awake past three AM.

  
Jisoo smiles, a careful, reluctant one. He shifts his body so that his entire body is facing Jeonghan, and he looks into his eyes, gentle, yet with an intensity that could move mountains. Jisoo takes Jeonghan’s hand in his own, and points to the city below them.

“Han, do you see everything that’s below you?” Skyscrapers twinkle as lights turn on and off, the ground below them shakes as music from a nearby club echoes down the street. The concrete below his feet is worn and cracked, a generator buzzes in the distance.

  
“Now look above you.” With a hand resting on the back of Jeonghan’s neck as if they were extensions of each other, Jisoo softly tilts Jeonghan’s head to the sky.

Above them, the descending snowflakes dance as they continue to fall from the sky, and the stars form constellations, aligning to form maps in the tenebrous sky.

Stardust collects in Jisoo’s eyes, the incandescent dust kissing the tips of his fingers as he slowly brings his hand up to a spot directly above Jeonghan’s lips, running the pad of his thumb across the scar he got falling out of a tree when he was in first grade. He gently brushes a fallen tear off of Jeonghan’s face, hand lingering on his cheek.

  
“I promise you, one day, the whole world, the Earth, the sky, and the stars will know your name -- will know our names.”

Their palms touch again as he takes Jeonghan’s hand in his own.

Jisoo then locks their pinkies together, and he doesn’t let go, a reminder to Jeonghan that the promise he just made is never-breaking.

  
Maybe it’s because the two of them are only ones sitting on the roof of a really fucking tall and ugly building with Jeonghan crying and letting all of his internalized feelings come out like a tidal wave all while his untouched coffee cools into an iced Americano beside him, but all Jeonghan can think about is how things seem to click into place as he sits on a roof with Jisoo (his best friend and never anything more), surrounded only by darkness and the soft descending of snowflakes, their pinkies interlocked so tightly like two ends of a rope knotting together, forming a connection impossible to break.

 

 ~

 

_II. Spring_

 

 

Spring is busy for them.

With pressure from their company to put out a comeback by May, Jeonghan can say with conviction that he hasn’t gotten more than two hours of sleep for at least three weeks now. Today they’re working on the choreography for their title track, Soonyoung laying down the foundation of the choreography while the rest of the members add details, slowly building the choreography layer-by-layer, just like ants reassembling their shelters in the springtime.

Jeonghan has tuned their voices out by now, too fatigued from the lack of sleep to really care or pay attention to what they apparently _have_ to incorporate into the choreography. He lays on the cool vinyl floor, cheek resting against the slate surface, allowing the cold to bring his body to more of a comfortable temperature. Lifting up his head slightly, Jeonghan glances his reflection in the large mirror that covers the entire wall in front of him. He looks exhausted, his eyes apathetic as if huge storm clouds had cast over his irises and drained all the color out of them.

Eyelids heavy, Jeonghan lets out a purposeful sigh, gaining all of the members’ attention. Soonyoung’s pen falls to the floor with a soft click as he focuses his attention on Jeonghan’s laying body, eyes impatient as he waits for Jeonghan to make his point.

“I’m so tired. Can’t we just say fuck it and go somewhere?”

He pauses briefly before continuing, still staring at his tired reflection in the mirror. “And I don’t mean the coffee shop downstairs somewhere _._ I mean as far away as possible from this stupid practice room before I lose my sanity and my legs due to overexertion. Like, America or some shit.”

Everyone else raises their eyebrows at Jeonghan’s brevity, surprised with how _rational_ he sounds, considering the fact that he was definitely proposing something that was very much impossible.

“Hani, you do realize that’s kind of impossible, right?” Soonyoung questions, foot tapping against the floor, anxious to go back to what he was doing before Jeonghan interrupted.

Jeonghan doesn’t give up that easily though, because he’s _Yoon fucking Jeonghan_ , and he will never let himself be defeated by someone who can’t even eat _one_ spicy rice cake without crying and releasing copious amounts of snot from his nasal cavities.

“Oh, believe me, I’m very aware of the impracticality of this proposal. It’s just that I choose not to care about it,” He doesn’t mean to sound blunt, but being debate team captain for all three years of high school tends to make a person uncompromisingly forthright.

Everyone’s still unconvinced, however, and Jeonghan can feel their attention starting to fade away.

“Look, I’m just saying, if I have to go through this choreography one more time, both of my legs will give out and I will have to live with noodle legs for the rest of my life.” The rest of the members laugh, amusement reverberating off the walls of their practice room.

“Okay, I sort of agree with him. It kind of feels like Satan is holding a torch to my calves and is slowly burning each of the individual muscles and tendons in them right now so that he can feast on them with the hell demons later.” Jisoo agrees, and Jeonghan breaks the intense eye contact he has with his reflection to give him a smile. _This is exactly why he’s my best friend._

“You two have both sucked it up for five years now, what makes this choreography any different from anything we’ve done in the past?” Soonyoung inquires, interested.

“Well, for starters, you’re making us change formations every twenty seconds. Not to mention the fact that we’re on our knees for over half of the song. I’m going to re-injure my knee if we have to keep going on like this. Do you really want me to drag my old knee brace out from the back closet?” Jeonghan complains, dragging out his words as he whines to Soonyoung.

Jisoo agrees enthusiastically, grumbling about his “new jeans getting dirty because we’re always on our fucking knees for this song”.

“With their stamina, Jisoo and Jeonghan are twenty-two going on sixty,” Seungkwan muses dramatically.

Nonetheless, Jisoo’s statement from earlier seems to relax the members a little, and most of them are more willing to listen to Jeonghan’s idea. With the exception of Seungcheol, of course, whose leader-like tendencies rule over his decisions at all times. (The fact that he had already managed to convince eleven of them, however, probably has to do with the fact that Jisoo is _Jisoo,_ the most personable and charming person in the entire world. He could probably convince all seven billion people of the world to listen to their entire discography if he tried hard enough.)

“So, how exactly do you suggest that we convince the CEO to let us travel thousands of miles away for _healing_? Last time I checked, we’re supposed to have our comeback ready in less than two weeks,” Seungcheol points out, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Relax, Cheol. You know how manipulative I can get,” Jeonghan smiles, and Seungcheol is immediately silenced. None of the members can dispute the fact that Jeonghan is particularly cunning when it comes to getting what he wants. (In fact, none of them would be surprised if his name was on a list somewhere in the National Intelligence Service headquarters.)

Seungcheol throws his hands up in defeat, motivating everyone else to express their concurrence with Jeonghan’s plan. At this point, any thoughts concerning their choreography had disappeared from all of their minds, and instead they are replaced with daydreams of vacation, images of feet sinking into warm sand and rays of sun hitting tanned skin.

“Where do you guys want to go?” Jeonghan asks, sitting upright now that everyone seems to be on board with his proposal. His energy has increased exponentially now that they’re discussing something he’s actually interested in.

“I don’t know, but I don’t want to go to America. It takes way too much brain power to communicate in English,” Chan contributes, and Jeonghan nods his head in agreement, images of all his failed English grammar tests from high school popping into his mind.

“Yeah, okay, then America is off the list,” Jisoo slightly frowns at Jeonghan’s statement, and Jeonghan mentally slaps himself for completely ignoring the fact that _Jisoo’s_ _entire family lives in America, you idiot._ Jisoo starts to think to himself, head falling back as he contemplates, but a second later he perks up, Jeonghan’s forgetful move flying over his head, and Jeonghan lets out a silent sigh of relief.

“ _Ooh,_ ” Seungkwan interjects, sticking his hand up in the air and aggressively waving it back and forth, anxious to be acknowledged. Junhui grabs his wrist and swiftly pulls his arm back down, placing Seungkwan’s hand in his own lap like he’s an animal control officer trying to subdue a rabid animal.

“You do realize that we’re not in elementary school and you can express your thoughts without raising your hand to be acknowledged, right?” Junhui retorts bluntly, laughing and returning Minghao’s high-five for his witty retort while Seungkwan pouts, still raising his hand high enough for everyone but Junhui to see.

Seungcheol nods for Seungkwan to continue. “We could go to Jeju,” The entire group groans, anticipating another two-hour long story about Seungkwan’s hometown. Seungkwan notices the group’s collective objections, and he rolls his eyes.

He’s about to speak when Chan interrupts, the younger’s voice full of desperation.

“Please, if you’re going to tell us another story about what your life was like growing up, can you give me a heads up so I can go stick a needle into both of my ears and burst my eardrums so I don’t have to listen to it?” The rest of the group laugh in accord.

Seungkwan crosses both of his arms across his chest, clearly annoyed at their antics. “Calm down, I wasn’t going to. And just for that, I’ll be sure to tell an extra long one before bed so none of you can get any sleep tonight!” He blows a kiss to all of the members while they grumble in protest.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I think we should go to Jeju. It’s really pretty in the spring, and I know you all miss my mom’s marinated crab. It’s way past tangerine season, but that’s okay. _I know a guy,_ ” He stage-whispers, eyes widening with exaggeration. Jeonghan smiles affectionately at Seungkwan, seeing his eyes sparkle as he speaks fondly about his hometown, eyes glittering with nostalgia as he recalls past memories.

Going to Jeju does seem appealing, now that Jeonghan thinks about it. He licks his lips and imagines the taste of the sweet citrus, fragrant nectar clinging to his taste buds and fresh juice trickling down his throat.

“That’s the first good idea I’ve heard from Seungkwan in like, four years,” Seungkwan gives him a look of exasperation.

“Thank you for your input, Jeonghan.”

“Relax, you know I’m just giving you a hard time. I like your idea,” Jeonghan lightly pushes Seungkwan in the shoulder. The rest of the members nod as well, expressing their acceptance of Seungkwan’s suggestion.

Seungcheol opens his mouth to speak again, still looking skeptical. “It sounds good, I guess.” He shrugs before continuing, glaring daggers at Jeonghan.

“I’m just not sure if Jeonghan’s capable of convincing our CEO to let us go on vacation without forcing him to terminate our contract in the process, and I’d prefer it if we didn’t disband this year.”

Jeonghan punches Seungcheol forcefully in the arm, pink beginning to blossom on the exposed skin. Seungcheol winces and starts to rub at the irritated area, and he’s about to snap at Jeonghan when Jeonghan begins to talk, smirking at Seungcheol in the process.

“Since Seungcheol appears to have no faith in me at all, I propose that he bet ten-thousand won on my inability to persuade our CEO to let us go on vacation,” Kicking Seungcheol’s leg to add insult to injury, he lets out a dry laugh and continues with his ridiculing.

“You might as well give the money to me now, because I’m going to convince him. I needed new shoes anyways,” Jeonghan finishes, and when he looks over at Seungcheol, the elder’s face is beet-red with exasperation. He’s always prided himself on his ability to make other people flustered, but it’s especially gratifying when he conquers Seungcheol, who’s all strong and masculine; impossible to triumph over. (If only the news outlets knew the leader of Seventeen still fell asleep wearing matching pyjama sets every night.)

Seungcheol lets out another sigh, louder this time. “When you use that type of rhetoric, I can’t help but want to bet my money. You’re going to make me go broke,” Jisoo giggles beside Jeonghan, and Jeonghan turns around to flash him a quick smile. Maybe it’s their shared hatred for Seungcheol that had kept their friendship strong for so long.

“I guess psychological warfare is only fun when you’re good at it,” Jeonghan muses, swinging his head back and forth before realizing that he doesn’t have a ponytail to throw back behind his shoulders anymore. _Well that just made this a lot less fun._ He thinks, before reminding himself that, _No, long hair is an actual pain in the ass to maintain,_ and _you don’t want it again._ Jeonghan stands up, patting the dust off of the back of his jeans and blows a kiss to Seungcheol before heading towards the door.

“I’m going to the CEO’s office now, feel free to leave the money next to my bed, because you bet I’m going to take a fat ass nap when I finish talking to him.” He turns sharply and exits the practice room. (If this was an ideal universe, Jeonghan would’ve had a ponytail, and it would’ve swished and magically formed into the shape of a finger to flip Seungcheol off, but this is the real world, Jeonghan’s hair is disgustingly damaged, and Jeonghan can’t have nice things.)

 

-

 

The inhospitable feeling of cold bathroom tiles against Jeonghan’s back is a feeling he’s become used to these past few months. He sits on the sticky floor of their company bathroom, waiting for Jisoo, harsh yellow lights flickering and setting off fireworks in his brain while the floral scent of cleaning spray irritates his nose.

 _Jisoo won’t come,_ his mind tells him. _Jisoo won’t come, because you’re annoying and everyone gets tired of you eventually._ Jeonghan looks down at his legs, ripped jeans covered in dust and skid marks from the filth of their practice room floor. His knee is covered in abrasions and bruises, dried blood crusting around the wounds. Jeonghan presses a finger to the exposed skin and winces, staring at the other scars that litter his legs, a physical testament to how much he’s overworked himself for the past year. Next to him, a faucet drips steadily, and drops of blood paint the sides of the milk white sinks in the bathroom red.

The door to the bathroom swings open, and Jisoo runs in, panting and clutching his sides. Jeonghan’s field of vision is blurred at the perimeter and his head is fuzzy with pain, so Jisoo looks more like a blur of black and white rather than a human figure. Nonetheless, Jeonghan knows it’s him. (Or, rather, he can recognize Jisoo’s tattered red Converses that are currently resting directly underneath his eyes.)

A bead of sweat slides down the side of Jeonghan’s face, and his black hair sticks to his forehead in clumps, wet with moisture.  He tries to greet Jisoo, but the ringing in his ears is far too loud and there are way too many bees buzzing in his brain, so he lets his head fall back and hit the eggshell tiles behind him with a thump.

“Jeonghan,” Jisoo whispers, almost as if he was afraid speaking would inflict even more pain on Jeonghan. He walks over and takes a seat next to him, gently removing Jeonghan’s hand from his injured knee and grasping it with his own instead, pressing a damp towel to the wound. Pink immediately begins to blossom under the towel, Jeonghan’s blood threatening to seep through the wet cloth. Jisoo’s smiles sadly at him, head bowed in pity. “Are you okay?”

Jeonghan presses his tongue against the back of his teeth and laughs bitterly, flinching when a drop of cold water falls onto the skin (or lack of) on his knee.

“I’m doing just great, Jisoo-ya. My knee seems to be jacked though.” _But it’s not like you care anyways,_ his mind retorts. Jeonghan wishes the aspirin he had taken earlier was capable of silencing his thoughts too.

“Han,” Jisoo says quietly, finger pressing delicate touches to the mole on the side of Jeonghan’s neck, then the scar on his cheek, then the acne scars on the side of his jaw. “Be serious. Do you think it’s infected?”

“Well, I’m not a doctor, but I think the fact that my knee has been bleeding profusely for the past five minutes is my body’s way of telling me that it’s infected. I couldn’t tell for sure, though, maybe it just hates me and wants to kill me off as soon as possible.” The bees in his head are still buzzing, buzzing, buzzing. He closes his eyes and he sees white-yellow-red pain, flying towards him in flashes.

“I’m going to tell the CEO. You need to get it checked out before it gets worse,” Jisoo sighs, squeezing Jeonghan’s hand to comfort him when his brows furrow in agony.

“It’s not like he’s going to take me to the hospital anyways. You know he could give fewer than two shits about us,” Jeonghan scoffs. He lets go of Jisoo’s hand and presses it against the floor, feeling his sweaty skin stick to the cement. The sound of heavy electric bass flows through the cracks in the door, and his mind matches the steady thumps with the beat of their new song. Back pressed against the bathroom wall, Jeonghan can feel the vibrations humming into his skin, and he tries to will the steady soundwaves to relax him and dull the pain in his knee.

“You know that’s not actually true. Deep down, he does care about us,” Jisoo tilts his head and rests it on Jeonghan’s shoulders. Muttering into the blue fabric of Jeonghan’s shirt he adds, “He’s just never really been that good at management, I guess.”

The buzzing in Jeonghan’s head clashes with the vibrations coming from the practice room and creates a cacophony in Jeonghan’s brain. His temples throb with pain, and by now, the towel resting idly on his knee is completely soaked with his own blood, looking very much like the red cloth used to aggravate bulls in bull fights.

“I’m still not going to tell him,” He says, leaning into Jisoo’s touch. He’s aware of how arrogant and childish he sounds, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Jeonghan, you have to,” Jisoo pleads, eyes welling with tears of pity. He gets up to rinse the blood out of the dirtied towel, placing it back onto Jeonghan’s knee when it’s cleaned.

Jeonghan just shakes his head, lowering his head to look at his splayed-out legs. He laughs to himself in his head, and wonders how he managed to injury himself this much in just one year. When he looks at his ankle, he sees all of his stress injuries and sports tape, wrapped around his skin as a show of injury but not doing much healing. Looking at his calves, he sees a pulled Achilles tendon, red-hot pain flaring behind his eyelids. He looks at his bleeding knee and laughs out loud, a deep, resentful rumble from the bottom of his throat. He has injuries that cover nearly 75% of the surface area on his legs, and he never received a minute of medical attention for any of them. He wishes the naive Jeonghan of a year ago had known this would’ve happened before he excitedly told the scouting agent that yes, he was interested in auditioning for Pledis Entertainment.

“Jeonghan, what is it? You know you can tell me,” Jisoo speaks, but it comes out more like a sigh. Jeonghan can still hear the steading dripping of the faucet next to him, water drops falling in time with the flashes of white-hot pain behind his eyes.

“I don’t know. I’m scared, I guess.” Jeonghan knows he looks like he’s about to give up, eyes empty and head hanging dejectedly from his shoulders. He thinks he looks pathetic, sitting in a dirty company bathroom while his fucked-up knee bleeds ceaselessly, his best friend pressing a bloody towel to his skin.

Jungah had warned him more than two months ago, too. When Jeonghan went to her seeking advice on how to improve his dancing for evaluations, she had only looked at him with tears in her eyes, hand hanging dejectedly at her side like a butterfly with a broken wing, and told him the story of how her universe went dark too.

“They won’t even give me a graduation ceremony,” She had told him, words piercing his heart like arrows of inferno.

 _Don’t give up, things will be better for you,_ he had tried to tell himself, but now he’s not so sure if the stars in his universe can relight themselves.

The shadows are far too dark.

His universe is starless.

 _Maybe I should just limp out of this stupid building and never look back,_ he thinks. The bees are still buzzing. _If I walk fast enough, it’ll only take me a day to get home._

Jisoo looks at Jeonghan, all-knowing and familiar, and gives him a careful smile, interlocking their pinkies.

“Don’t go,” He whispers into his shoulder, lips pressed against Jeonghan’s skin, sticky with sweat.

“Remember what I promised you, and everything will be okay.”

Jeonghan closes his eyes. He hopes Jisoo is telling the truth.

-

They debut only a month later, after 17 Project is completed, in front of their parents and exactly one thousand fans. And once the stadium clears out, under harsh stage lights and next to a crying Seungcheol, Jeonghan kisses Jisoo, holding his hand and feeling the silver of their pinky rings touch. They stay like that, vulnerable, for only a second before Jisoo pulls away, a soft pink blush blossoming on the apples of his cheeks. They’re both too excited about the prospect of debuting to think much of it, Jeonghan was obviously just caught up in the moment and kissed Jisoo out of pure happiness. Neither of them had noticed how Jisoo’s lips had fit perfectly together with Jeonghan’s, or how the entire world seemed to melt away when they collided under hot stage lights, crossing the bridge between friends and lovers and meeting in the middle, if only for a second.

They’re both awake at three AM that night, visions of a perfect debut replaying over and over in their heads. A gentle spring breeze blows softly outside the window of their dorm, the silk curtains in their shared bedroom billowing and opening to allow a single cherry blossom petal to fall into their room.

Lips centimeters away from Jisoo’s neck, Jeonghan whispers over and over again, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Thank you for promising me the world that night. Thank you for being my best friend,” _Never anything more._

“Even through everything. Thank you for always staying by my side no matter what, Shua-ya.”

“You’re welcome,” Jisoo whispers back, connecting their pinkies once more.

The pale light of the spring moon shines onto the floor of their shared bedroom, slowly fading; and so does the memory of their kiss.

 

-

 

It’s on a particularly gloomy day in April, two days before they leave for Jeju, that Jeonghan decides to corner Seungcheol when he’s alone in his room and bother him with his problems.

Droplets of rain are harshly beating against the glass windows in every room of their dorm, but Jeonghan is unbothered by it. He’s always found the pouring rain to be rhythmic and comforting, rather than raucous and irritating. Staring at the blooming cherry blossom tree outside of Seungcheol’s window, Jeonghan notices how the rain had knocked almost half of the cherry blossom buds off of their spots on the branches of the tree. The pavement is covered with powder pink petals, rain soaking the fallen cherry blossom buds and making them stick to the road like sheets of December snow.

He walks to the window facing Seungcheol’s bed and opens the window, much to Seungcheol’s dissent. The light above his bed illuminates the outlines of raindrops that fall from the window into Seungcheol’s room, some hitting the elder in the face. Seungcheol abruptly shoots up from his bed and wipes at the moisture on his face, angrily turning his phone off. “What the fuck, Jeonghan? How many times do I have to tell you not to open windows when it’s pouring rain outside?”

“One, I like having the windows open, and two, there’s nothing you can do about it, so you can just go back to your Temple Run game or whatever game it is that you can actually find in the appstore on your Galaxy Brick Two,” Jeonghan has always found solace in the smell of rain. It reminds him of jasmine green tea, the soft scratch of graphite against notebook paper, and the smell of Jisoo’s shampoo that clings to his pyjamas after he accidentally falls asleep in Jeonghan’s bed after a late shower.

“And you realize that water causes irreparable damage to hardwood floors, right?” Seungcheol points to the hickory panels that cover the floor of his bedroom with irritation. Jeonghan just shrugs and stays still. He can practically see pieces of Seungcheol’s soul flying out of his body every time a raindrop falls onto the wood flooring.

“Also,” Seungcheol adds, crossing his arms over the soft blue lettering on his t-shirt. “Androids are totally better than iPhones, they don’t have a shit battery, and they’re way more durable.”

Jeonghan scoffs. “Okay, Cheol-ah. I’ll consider listening to your argument when you’re capable of sending pictures to our group chat that have more than two pixels in them.” Yanking Seungcheol’s phone out of his hands and throwing it onto his bed, he pushes Seungcheol’s extended legs into an upright position and sits down on the empty space he created on the cream-colored mattress.

“I have a problem, that’s probably not a problem, but it’s bothering me enough that it’s arguably become worthy of the problem title, but then again I don’t know what exactly about it that’s bothering me so I wanted to come to you,” Jeonghan says in one breath, watching Seungcheol’s eyebrows raise in a mixture of intrigue and confusion.

“I had a stroke listening to you say that, but continue,” Sitting up so that his back rests on his bed frame, Seungcheol puts one hand on top of another and places them on his knees, motioning for Jeonghan to start speaking.

“Can you not give me that look? It makes me not want to share this very obvious predicament with you.”

“What look?”

“What other look would I be talking about? That stupid leader-face you get whenever one of us ask you for advice. It makes you seem like my 50 year old dad, so stop.”

Seungcheol grabs a pair of fake reading glasses from his bedside drawer, and puts them on. (Jeonghan doesn’t even want to know why he has that on hand.) “Better?”

“ _Oh my God._ I literally hate you with my entire being.”

“You would be nowhere without me.”

Flicking Seungcheol in the forehead, Jeonghan continues, flinging his hands around as he talks for added exaggeration. “I don’t know if I’m just going crazy but for the past month I haven’t stopped thinking about Jisoo, and it’s fucking confusing because I’ve never thought about him _this much_ before and I don’t know what to make of it and I just want it to stop?”

Seungcheol hums, drumming his fingers softly on the spruce wood of his bed frame. “I mean, he is your best friend. Isn’t it normal to think about him?”

“He’s annoying and definitely _not_ my best friend,” Jeonghan whines childishly. “Yesterday, when the plant that we co-parented in our room died, he refused to give it a funeral like any functional human being with an ounce of emotion would do. He just threw it straight in the trash!”

“ _Unbelievable_. I can’t believe he’s that heartless,” Seungcheol says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Right? Anyways, back to what I was saying. I guess it’s normal to think about him periodically, but I literally think about him _all the time_. Also, whenever we hold hands or he touches me in any way, there’s this weird energy? I don’t know how else to describe it other than the fact that it kind of feels like static, and it’s really uncomfortable and annoying,” Jeonghan rests his head on Seungcheol’s legs, feeling the soft cotton of his sweatpants rub against his cheek.

“Okay, but when has your friendship with Jisoo ever been normal? You just mentioned less than a minute ago that you two co-parent a _plant,_ ” Seungcheol’s tone hints at the fact that he knows more about Jeonghan’s problem than he’s letting on, but Jeonghan’s far too tired to read into it more.

“Co-parent _ed,_ Seungcheol. Have some respect for the dead,” Jeonghan emphasizes, hitting the elder in the knees.

“I can’t help you with your problem, Jeonghan, if you keep on talking about your dead plant.” Seungcheol deadpans, running his hands through Jeonghan’s toffee hair.

Jeonghan moans in delight, pointing at a spot on the top of his head. “Make sure you get this spot.”

“Am I your therapist or your slave?” Seungcheol groans, pushing his knuckles into Jeonghan’s scalp with force, grinning when Jeonghan yelps in pain.

“Both,” Jeonghan closes his eyes, feeling the familiar weight of Seungcheol’s fingers lazily running through his hair. He’s about to fall asleep when Seungcheol pinches his bicep, looking annoyed.

“Jeonghan, what is Jisoo to you?” Jeonghan looks up at Seungcheol and raises an eyebrow, confused at the sudden seriousness of their conversation.

“An inconvenience, the devil personified,” He says matter-of-factly, calmly closing his eyes again and listening to the pattering of rain weaken outside of the window. He allows his heartbeat to slow along with the pace of the rain, sighing with relaxation.

“ _Stop_ , be serious,” Seungcheol grumbles, snapping in front of Jeonghan’s eyes, effectively jerking him out of his moment of tranquility.

“Fine. He’s either my best friend or a demon conveniently sent from Hell to make my life miserable. I can’t decide which one it is yet,” Jeonghan shrugs, blowing at his bangs when Seungcheol brushes them in front of his eyes, obstructing his vision.

“Elaborate. Why do you feel like he makes your life miserable?”

“Oh, you weren’t kidding about the therapy thing? Are you going to pick apart my problem and analyze it layer-by-layer until it’s so thin that we’ll have no idea what the original predicament was?” Jeonghan says bluntly, trying to hide his obvious discomfort.

“ _Jeonghan_ ,” Seungcheol whines. “Stop wasting time and just answer my question, you’re taking time out of my afternoon nap.”

“I don’t know why,” Jeonghan sighs, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the soft marigold light radiating from Seungcheol’s bedside lamp.

He doesn’t know why Jisoo’s touches feel like flashes of lighting sending shockwaves of energy throughout his body, staying engraved in his skin for days, or why when he goes to a cafe, all he can think about is how the dulcet tones of Jisoo’s voice are as sweet as the golden caramel that tops his desert.

“Then, that’s for you to figure out on your own. I think once you figure it out, you’ll know the answer to your problem,” Seungcheol muses enigmatically, wrapping his arms around Jeonghan’s shoulders.

“Stop speaking in riddles, Cheol. Can’t you just help me kill him? A simple solution to a simple problem,” Jeonghan complains, leaning into Seungcheol’s touch.

“I think it’s a lot more complicated than you think.”

“Well, clearly you already know exactly how to fix my problem, why can’t you just tell me?”

“Because you already know what the answer is too, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol says, voice filled with implication and suggestion.

Kissing the top of Jeonghan’s head affectionately, Seungcheol gets up to close the window in his room, shutting the cool post-rain wind out, and turns off his bedside lamp. Pushing Jeonghan out of his bed and towards the door, he not-so-subtly hints at the fact that he wants Jeonghan to leave.

“Wait, that’s not fair, you still haven’t told-” Jeonghan protests, but the door to Seungcheol’s room is already closed, a gush of wind slamming into his face as Seungcheol’s door locks with a click.

Jisoo appears next to him, grinning. His hair is still wet from a shower, and he smells like rose shampoo, light and fragrant like the cherry blossom petals that litter the pavement outside of their dorm. “You were in there for a long time, what were you two talking about?”

“The fact that you refused to hold a funeral for Sigmul-ie.” Jeonghan pouts. Jisoo just grabs onto his wrist and laces their fingers together, still smiling.

“Aw, you’re still not over that? You’re too emotionally invested in that plant.”

Jisoo’s touch still feels like electricity sticking to his skin, intoxicating and volatile, but Jeonghan chooses to ignore it.

 

-

 

When they arrive at Jeju, Jeonghan’s skin is immediately kissed by the sea breeze, and salt winds run through his hair, giving him goosebumps that shoot down both his arms, instantly cooling him down and relaxing his tense muscles. The sky is gloomy, the shadow of a thunderstorm casting over the entire island, but the sea is still soft blue and gentle, waves splashing on the shore and caressing the sand.

Jisoo appears beside him, wearing a pale pink cardigan, threads loose at the sleeves. His fingers are clasped tightly around his suitcase, but he still finds Jeonghan’s hand, lazily grasping his hand and running his thumb across Jeonghan’s knuckles. Jeonghan smiles softly, grabbing Jisoo’s now-discarded suitcase for him, and they trudge through the airport parking lot, sluggishly following behind the rest of the members. The eleven other boys are talking quietly, the calmness of the sea soothing even Soonyoung, who’s capable of talking for twelve hours straight if you let him go on for long enough.

Tranquility settles in the air around them, shaping around their bodies as if a blanket of stillness had settled on top of each of their bodies. Jeonghan and Jisoo’s hands swing in rhythm beside them as they walk across the gravel, the sound of thirteen suitcases simultaneously rolling across stone grating against Jeonghan’s ears. Squeezing Jisoo’s hand, leans towards Jisoo’s ear and whispers, breath tickling Jisoo’s neck.

“Dibs on the bed when we get to our rental.”

Jisoo groans in exasperation, but Jeonghan just shrugs, satisfied that he remembered to call dibs before Jisoo did. Finding a vacation house that would be able to fit all thirteen on them was already a difficult enough task, and he was not about to spend his much needed break sleeping on hardwood floor, not when his muscles were _still_ sore from all of the dancing they’ve done in the past two weeks.

“ _Fuck you_. You know I always forget to call dibs. Can’t we settle this another way?” Jisoo complains, repeatedly hitting Jeonghan in the chest with the sleeve of his oversized shirt.

Jeonghan just shakes his head and sticks out his tongue, mocking Jisoo. “And what do you suggest we do, Shua? Settle this the old fashioned way? A medieval rite of trial by combat adjudicated by God?”

Jisoo just starts throwing hits at Jeonghan’s chest in rapid succession, pouting at him and kicking the side of his foot. “No, I’m not going to have a medieval duel with you just for a bed. Let’s do rock-paper-scissors,” He says childishly, lower lip still jutted out in an attempt to make Jeonghan feel pity for him. Jeonghan scoffs and grabs Jisoo’s hand, pushing it into his back pocket.

“Why would you suggest rock-paper-scissors if you know you’re going to lose?” He throws out a fist while Jisoo throws two fingers out, and Jeonghan smirks, pushing Jisoo’s outstretched hand down, hard, with his fist. In front of them, Seungcheol groans, sharply turning around to face the both of them. “You two do realize,” He pinches the space between his eyebrows in a show of irritation. “That you can just share a bed? Like you have done at our dorm for the past four years now?”

Jeonghan laughs bitterly, and a raindrop falls from the sky, hitting him in the middle of his forehead and slowly trickles down the bridge of his nose. He flinches at the sudden coolness and wipes at the moisture, while beside him, Jisoo giggles as he notices Jeonghan’s discomfort. “I came here for a break from our everyday life, not to sleep next to Shua, who does fucking acrobatics in his sleep. If you’re going to make me sleep next to him, I might as well go on the next flight back to Seoul.” Jisoo rolls his eyes, and Jeonghan squeezes his hands as if to remind him that _Obviously, I’m joking._ Jisoo gives him a gentle smile in return. _I know, but it’s fun to argue with you and piss off Seungcheol._

Seungcheol huffs in vexation. “ _Fine._ But if you’re going to argue over this, can you at least wait until we’re out of the parking lot to engage in your medieval sword fight?”

Jeonghan and Jisoo both grin, hands still swinging between them. Jeonghan stretches out his leg and kicks Seungcheol in the ass, earning a grunt and a curse from the elder. “Of course, Seungcheol. I’m not a monster. How could you ever think that I would murder someone on public property? That makes it so much easier for the police to prosecute me.”

Jisoo nods in agreement. “Honestly, Seungcheol, how dumb do you think we are? Do you think we’re _looking_ to get arrested? Obviously not, since we carry all of Seventeen on our backs. Without us, you would inevitably be broke.”

Jeonghan gives an exaggerated nod and fist-bumps Jisoo, leaving an exasperated Seungcheol to storm towards the car their company assigned to pick them up.

 

-

 

They both can't sleep their last night in Jeju, so they decide to walk to the beach.

Jeonghan is convinced the countless days they've spent awake until 4AM refining their choreography has permanently fucked up his circadian rhythm, and as a result he'll never be able to sleep like a normal human being ever again, but the only thing that's mildly comforting about his current situation is that Jisoo's internal clock is just as messed up as his is. Brushing his arm against Jisoo’s, he points at the sky, prompting Jisoo to tilt his head upwards.  

The sky is ink-black, but millions of twinkling stars shine against the darkness brighter than Jeonghan has ever seen them before. There is no smog or smoke from a busy city like Seoul to conceal their incandescence, so they flicker in a dazzling show of light, their luster reflecting onto Jisoo’s eyes as he watches the sky and making them glitter. Jeonghan’s heart suddenly feels three sizes too big for his body when he watches Jisoo, the absence of light and people around them allowing the two of them to slip into a comfortable isolation; it feels as if they’re the only two people left in the world, accompanied by nothing but the sound of waves softly breaking on a shore.

The sand on the beach is cool against the soles of Jeonghan’s feet as he walks across the beach, cushioning his steps like soft cumulus clouds, and when he looks ahead, he sees the sea, shining with the reflection of the waning moon. Grabbing Jisoo’s hand, he sits down on the cool sand just close enough for indigo waves to brush against his ankles, easing him into a feeling of drowsiness as they draw in and out.

Taking their interlocked hands and pointing towards the western sky, Jeonghan speaks softly, careful to disturb the aura of serenity around them. “Look, it’s Orion.”

Jisoo squints his eyes, looking towards the direction of Jeonghan’s pointed finger. “All these stars look the same to me, how can you possibly tell the difference between them?

Jeonghan laughs quietly, drawing circles into the palm of Jisoo’s hand. “I used to be the biggest astronomy nerd in the fifth grade. I begged my mom to buy me one of those thousand-won telescopes or my birthday, and I’d take it outside every day in the summer to look at the stars.”

Jisoo smiles fondly, eyes turning into gentle crescent moons. “And how did that turn out?”

“Absolutely horrible, you have no idea. You can’t see shit in Seoul because there’s so much air pollution. Ten year old me’s dream was crushed within a day of owning my fancy telescope.”

They both start giggling, and being alone on a beach at 3AM allows them to let go of their images, (not to mention the lack of melatonin production messing with the chemicals in their brains) so they both turn their bodies towards each other, gasping with laughter until there are tears in their eyes, eventually allowing their giggles to melt away and disappear into the sea.

Still dizzy from his unexpected fit of laughter, Jeonghan feels Jisoo’s hair brush against his skin as he lets his head fall to the space between Jeonghan’s neck and shoulder.

Lips near Jeonghan’s neck, he whispers, “Tell me the story of Orion.”

“Okay,” Jeonghan mutters. There are thousands of butterflies dancing across his skin and making his body tingle at Jisoo’s touch, and he wants them to _go away._ _You’re just cold,_ he tells himself. _You’ve been friends with Jisoo for five years now, and he’s never made you feel like this before. The feelings will go away soon enough._

Voice shaky, he begins to tell the story, and Jisoo’s lips feel more like scalding stones against his skin rather than the gentle petals of roses they’ve always been, a comforting presence.

_He’s your best friend, never anything more._

“So, Orion was basically this cocky, egotistical asshole who thought he could fix the entire world by killing all of the wild animals of the world. He was like the opposite of Noah from the Bible.” Jisoo smiles and tilts his head to the side, urging Jeonghan to continue.

“He’s a self-centered jerk?” Jisoo questions.

“Exactly, Jisoo.”

“He sounds a lot like you, dickhead,” Jisoo states dully, and Jeonghan punches him in the arm, pouting. When the tide washes up to the two of them, he reaches a hand in and splashes Jisoo with the frigid water, soaking Jisoo’s forearms and the cotton of his hoodie. Jisoo gasps in surprise and releases his grip on Jeonghan’s hand, wincing at the uncomfortable presence of biting sea water against his previously warm skin.

“Anyways,” Jeonghan continues, rolling his eyes dramatically at Jisoo. “Gaia, the goddess of Earth, sent this big ass scorpion to defeat Orion because he was getting brave and pissing her off.”

“Just like the universe sent me to balance out your evil,” Jisoo points out, grinning mischievously at Jeonghan. _The universe sent you to make my life extremely difficult and my emotions confusing,_ Jeonghan thinks to himself.

“Stop interrupting me and let me finish the story,” Jeonghan says out loud instead. He presses his index finger to Jisoo’s chest, poking him. “Besides, you have no right to say anything about my evil tendencies when you’re the spawn of Satan himself.”

Jisoo just shrugs.

“But anyways, I digress. So then, Orion jumped into the sea to battle this scorpion, because he thought he could kick its ass. But then, Apollo was like fuck no, we’re not doing this today, so he told his sister Artemis that there was a monster in the sea even though it was really Orion, and he made her shoot and kill Orion with her arrow.”

“That’s fucked up.”

Jeonghan lets out a sigh of exasperation. “Keep interrupting me, and you’ll know what it feels like to have an arrow in your back just like Orion did.”

“After that, Artemis went to see what exactly she had killed, and then she discovered that it was really Orion. And Orion was her best friend or whatever, so she was heartbroken. She begged Apollo to bring him back to life, but he refused, so she decided to put his picture in the sky to remember him forever,” Jeonghan finishes.

When he turns to look at Jisoo, he’s staring intently at the constellation, eyes lit up with intrigue.

“If I died, would you put my picture in the stars so you could see me forever?” Jisoo inquires jokingly, but there’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice disguised beneath his joking tone that only someone who knows him as well as Jeonghan would be able to pick up on.

Jeonghan knows exactly what he’s asking him, so he gives him a gentle smile before answering, “Of course I care enough about you to do something like that, Shua-ya. You’re my best friend.”

 _Sometimes,_ _I don’t know if I want us to be just Jeonghan and Jisoo, best friends, anymore._

“You know,” Jisoo murmurs, voice filled with dulcet tones of nostalgia and affection, “The last time we watched the stars together was before our debut.”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan smiles fondly, resting his head against Jisoo’s. “How could I forget? I cried in front of you for nearly twenty minutes. That’s when I knew you would be my best friend forever, because no one else can ever know about my hidden vulnerability.” He phrases his last sentence like a threat, throwing Jisoo a serious glare.

“And look. Almost three years later, we’ve performed in front of crowds of 100,000 people. Told you I’d never break my promise,” Jisoo smiles tenderly at Jeonghan.

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

“How could I forget?”

“I had been under the impression that the promise was a tiny insignificance in your life.”

“Well, it’s the reason why you stayed, isn’t it? The reason why you’re sitting next to me right now?”

Jeonghan doesn’t know why, but suddenly he’s hyper-aware of the fact that he’s not holding Jisoo’s hand, and his hands curl into fists at his side, palms suddenly turning cold, aching for Jisoo’s touch.

Jeonghan lets out a shaky breath, placing his hand in Jisoo’s again. “Yeah.” Jisoo’s hand is warm and familiar in his own, but it is only now that Jeonghan notices just how well his hand fits in Jisoo’s, almost as if they were engineered to fit one another.

“I never properly thanked you for doing that, you know. It really did help a lot,” Jeonghan mutters, watching Jisoo’s eyelashes flutter as he blinks with tiredness. _You’re not supposed to think about how pretty your best friend looks when he’s sleepy,_ his mind angrily reminds him.

“You did, the day before we debuted, remember?” Jisoo laughs, squeezing Jeonghan’s hand, willing him to recall the memory.

“Oh, I did. I guess I forgot,” Jisoo’s hand is a home for Jeonghan’s, but it’s not supposed to be.

“I think that was the last time you were actually nice to me, Jeonghan. It’s a rare occurrence.”

“What do you mean? I’m always nice to you. I paid for your dinner yesterday,” Jeonghan retorts, desperately trying to silence his thoughts.

“You paid for my dinner with _my_ card. All I did was tell you to take my card up to the cashier,” Jisoo giggles. All Jeonghan can think about is how his lips look like soft petals of rose, pink like when they bloom in the spring.

_He’s your best friend._

“Right, but when have I ever done a favor for anyone else? I did it because I _love_ you,” Jeonghan drags out the O, smiling at Jisoo.

Jisoo hits him square in the chest, blushing. “You’re the biggest fucking idiot in the world, you know that, right? I love you too, Han.”

But Jeonghan’s always been a thunderstorm to match Jisoo’s gentle spring rains, always unpredictable and wildly turbulent; so he thinks _fuck it,_ and leans towards Jisoo, pressing their lips together.

Yet this time, there are no suffocating stage lights or adrenaline rushes to mask how _right_ Jisoo’s lavender and honey lips feel against Jeonghan’s. _Jisoo, Jisoo, Jisoo,_ plays in his head over and over like a broken record while the butterflies that litter his body take flight, wings brushing against his skin and making his entire body tingle.

Jisoo pulls away, voice wavering like the changing tides.

“Jeonghan, we can’t.” His expression had suddenly turned sour, grip on Jeonghan’s hand loosening.

 _How fitting,_ Jeonghan thinks, when the ink sky above them begins to drop sheets of rain on the shoreline, falling into the sea and propelling the dark blue waves forward towards the shoreline, crashing into sandcastles and swallowing them whole.

Pulling his hand away from Jisoo’s and placing it into his lap, Jeonghan tries to speak, but it comes out more like a shaky breath, scared and vulnerable. “I didn’t mean it in that way, Shua.” He tries to come up with excuses, but the bees are back in his head, buzzing louder than ever and clouding his thoughts.

“Jeonghan,” Jisoo frowns, “You don’t have to lie to me, it’s okay. I won’t hate you if you think of me that way.” He says _that way_ like it’s a curse, like it’s boiling water scalding the tip of his tongue, and Jeonghan wants to scream into the indigo sea that surrounds them.

Lighting crashes above them, static making the hairs on the back of Jeonghan’s neck stick up.

 _Of course,_ Jeonghan thinks bitterly to himself. _You don’t just kiss your best friend of five years and expect him to magically be okay with it._

“You know you’re my best friend. You can be honest with me,” He continues. Jeonghan just wants to punch him for being so laissez-faire.

“No, Shua. That’s alright. I’m just tired, I guess.” Jeonghan draws a breath in and it’s as harsh as the stormy waves that crash in front of them. “Can’t really think straight right now.”

“Are you sure?” Jisoo presses, boring holes of concern into Jeonghan’s body.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I didn’t mean it like that.” _Nice boys like Jisoo don’t fall in love with other boys._

“Oh, well. I guess we all do stupid things when we’re tired,” Jisoo laughs with relief.

Jeonghan tries to let go and laugh with him, but no matter how hard he tries to seem nonchalant, he will always be the thunder and lightning wreaking havoc on Jisoo’s gentle ocean.

Maybe in an alternate universe they were together from the start, but in this one, Jeonghan is Seventeen’s Jeonghan, and Jisoo is Seventeen’s Joshua. They are idols, bandmates, at times even brothers. But most importantly, they are best friends and never anything more.

“Come on, you’re soaked in rain. Let’s go inside,” Jisoo offers his hand to Jeonghan, and Jeonghan takes it, desperately trying to ignore the fact that his touch still feels as yellow-hot as the lightning that crashes above them, burning.

Jeonghan looks to the sky.

Jisoo is his Orion, ever-present and dazzling, but millions of light-years away from Jeonghan’s reach.

 

~ ~ ~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~pov switch~

_III. Summer_

 

 

Jisoo has always loved the month of June, so it’s only fitting that it’s then when he starts dating Jiyeon.

Because Jiyeon is one of Jisoo’s old friends from L.A, it’s easy for them to quickly fall into a comfortable rhythm. Being with Jiyeon is natural, and Jisoo feels secure whenever he’s with her. It feels like they’ve been together much longer than just three weeks. It almost seems as if they’ve been together since the beginning of time -- when he thinks about her, he can’t help but think about how perfect the two of them look next to each other. Jiyeon’s soft brown hair falls just below her shoulders, the perfect length to brush against the side of Jisoo’s cheek when they kiss. Her fruit-punch lips are as sweet as conversation hearts, inviting and addicting. Her height is just right for resting her head in the crook of Jisoo’s neck.

She is the slow ease into scorching summer heat, the smell of sunlight on warm bed sheets, palms pressed gently against warm glass, and the steady flow of a waterfall, turquoise and cerulean under the sky.

 _Even our names fit together perfectly._ Jisoo thinks to himself. _Jisoo and Jiyeon sounds just right._

Their relationship is easy and effortless, they have so much history with each other that they don’t have to start from scratch and learn everything there is to know about each other. Plus, the transition between them being just friends to more was nearly seamless, so it’s not much of a surprise to Jisoo when the members start to catch on to the fact that he has a girlfriend.

Jeonghan is the first to bring it up, catching Jisoo off-guard while they wait backstage at a music show. He walks into their tiny waiting room and nearly bumps into a rack full of clothes on his way over to the couch where Jisoo is sitting, and Jisoo tries his hardest not to burst out in laughter as he watches Jeonghan trip over his own feet through his peripheral vision.

Jisoo can tell Jeonghan just got out of hair and makeup. The foundation on his face still hasn’t fully settled into his skin, and he can still see tiny streaks on his face where their makeup artist lazily tried to conceal the scar on Jeonghan’s cheek. He still looks pretty as ever though, the small layer of pearl shadow on his aegyo-sals accentuates his doe eyes and makes them twinkle under the artificial lighting of their waiting room. The coral-pink tint on his heart-shaped lips make them look as sweet as strawberry lemonade in the summertime.

“You look nice today,” Jisoo comments.

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, hesitating, unsure if he should sit down or not. “Okay, _no_. You’re never this nice to me. What do you want from me?”

“I’m literally just complimenting you. Can I do that without having my motives questioned?” Pulling his hand out of his pocket, Jisoo swipes his thumb across Jeonghan’s cheek, attempting to wipe the still-drying concealer off his skin. “Why do they still insist on covering up your scar?”

“I don’t know, why do _you_ have such a fascination with my scar?” Jeonghan asks bluntly. “What is there to like about a cut that didn’t heal after I fell out of a tree when I was six?”

Jisoo shrugs, motioning for Jeonghan to sit next to him. “I don’t know. Makes you, you I guess.”

“Okay,” Jeonghan smiles and pauses, but he sounds unsatisfied with how boring Jisoo’s answer was.

“Also, quit texting your girlfriend and come do warm-ups with me,” Smacking the back of Jisoo’s head, he walks over and sits down next to him with a plop.

Jisoo’s eyes widen a bit at first at the sudden change of topic, but he’s quickly reminded that it’s _Jeonghan_ that he’s talking to, and this kind of behavior is normal to expect from him.

“ _Ugh._ Of course you’d be the first to figure it out. Sometimes you’re so observant it scares me.” (Seriously. Jeonghan is so perceptive he can probably tell what Jisoo’s going to say even before he says anything, just by analyzing the way he’s standing.)

Jeonghan grins, rubbing his fingers along the couch and watching the fabric turn lighter under his touch. “It’s my charm.”

“Prying into other people’s business is your charm?” Jisoo jokes, flinching slightly when his phone pings with a text notification. “You’re just far too nosy for your own good.”

“It’s not necessarily prying if what I observe and deduct as a result is true. You do have a girlfriend, don’t you?” Jeonghan asks, but his question is phrased more like a statement, _I know you have a girlfriend._

“If that makes you happy, dickhead.” Jisoo says, but he knows Jeonghan knows him well enough to know that Jisoo had just confirmed his theory. He pulls at the periwinkle sleeves of his shirt, suddenly feeling chagrined under Jeonghan’s stare.

“Huh. I’m surprised you didn’t deny it at first. It seems like my _Shua_ is growing up,” Jeonghan mocks, giggling when Jisoo’s cheeks start to flush pink. He pokes at his cheeks, leaving tiny imprints in Jisoo’s foundation.

“Why are you looking at me like that? You’re not going to sell me out to a tabloid, are you?” Jisoo playfully jokes, propping his legs up on the coffee table that sits across from them. Placing a hand on his cheek, he feels his skin warm as his blush deepens, and he lets out a sigh. _Seriously, fuck Jeonghan._

“You never know. Don’t get on my bad side~” Leaning towards Jisoo and placing his face dangerously close to Jisoo’s phone screen, Jeonghan giggles.

“Oh my God, blackmail. Jeonghan, your mind amazes me,” Jisoo mocks. He pulls the sleeve of his shirt over his hand and wipes at a speck of dust on his screen protector. (It’s also an effort to hide his phone screen from Jeonghan, because he knows if Jeonghan sees his texts with Jiyeon he’ll never let him live it down.)

“ _I’ll have strength during filming today because I have you,_ ” He reads from Jisoo’s texts, punctuating his sentences with a poke to Jisoo’s chest. “You’re so greasy, Shua-ya. I hope she breaks up with you.”

“ _Thanks._ It really means a lot coming from someone that’s miserably single,” Jisoo rolls his eyes, softly kicking Jeonghan in the shin.

“I don’t need to rely on _romance_ and that lovey-dovey shit for my happiness. You’re just lucky I believe love is a social construct, because you know I’m capable of stealing your girlfriend from you in a second,” Jeonghan snaps his fingers for emphasis, smirking at Jisoo.

“Very well said, you sound exactly like the loner who hasn’t dated in six years that you are.”

“What’s her name?” Jeonghan inquires, running his fingers through his bangs. A tuft of hair sticks up on the top of his hair looking extremely out of place, and Jisoo knows their stylists will have a fit as soon as they see it, so he swiftly lifts his hand up to the top of Jeonghan’s head and pushes it down, praying that it won’t pop back up and Jeonghan will have to go through hair again.

“Thanks,” Jeonghan smiles, touching his newly dyed hair. His roots are already starting to peek through, but somehow he still manages to make it look good, while Jisoo usually ends up looking like a number two pencil when his roots start to grow out.

Jisoo groans to himself, because Jeonghan is actually _perfect,_ and it’s really unfair to the rest of the world.

“Her name is Jiyeon,” Jisoo smiles at the thought of Jiyeon, her cherry blossom lips, and how the two of them look like the perfect couple when they sneak out to go on dates.

“Jiyeon,” Jeonghan repeats, pursing his lips and sliding his tongue across his lips, testing the syllables out.

“It’s pretty,” Jeonghan hums. He stops talking for a moment, and the brief silence between them is strangely heavy, but the aura of uncomfortableness is immediately destroyed when Jeonghan reverts back to his evil self, pushes Jisoo’s feet off of the coffee table, and smacks Jisoo’s phone out of his hands.

“Time to warm-up, Shua! Excellent stage presence waits for no man!”

Jisoo groans.

 

-

 

Telling Jeonghan about Jiyeon is one thing, but telling the other eleven members is something Jisoo wishes he never had to do. _The golden opportunity to tell them_ , as Jeonghan phrases it, however, comes during a group dinner after a music show filming.

It’s probably written somewhere in the book of unofficial-but-official rules of human nature that when a large group of boys walk into a restaurant talking at volume levels above what’s considered publicly acceptable -- you run. And that’s exactly what half of this particular barbeque restaurant does at ten PM on a Friday evening.

The moment Seokmin and Soonyoung walk into the establishment loudly debating over whether it’s better to take the head or tail off of takoyaki before you eat it, all the sweaty, single men desperately clinging to half-empty soju bottles for support sigh, pick up their coats, and stumble out of the restaurant, car keys clinking against their alcohol glasses. The departure of all the drunk middle-aged men is followed by the families of four summoning a waiter to pay their checks and then hurriedly leading their six-year olds out the front doors when Seungkwan starts to loudly sing along to the 2007 Wonder Girls song playing over the speakers.

Seungcheol elbows him in an attempt to get him to stop when the families start to give him dirty looks on their way out, but it just encourages him to unearth the _The Wonder Years_ -era choreography from the depths of his brain and start dancing while he belts out the chorus of Tell Me. Seungcheol grabs onto the back of Seungkwan’s shirt and pulls him towards the group. Seungkwan pouts at him but stops, and flashes the waiter waiting in front of the restaurant an apologetic smile when he sees her impatiently tapping her foot against the linoleum floors.

“We made a reservation for thirteen earlier,” Seungcheol smiles.

“Great. I’ll check for that now,” The waiter averts her attention to the hostess stand and swiftly types into the computer sitting on the podium. She clicks on something, pulls a tiny notepad out of her pocket, and steps in front of Seungcheol, motioning for them to follow her.

As they walk through the restaurant towards the back rooms, they hear the sizzling of meat against grills, the crunch of lettuce wraps, and the sloshing of dashi broth, warm and hearty as it washes down barbecued meat. The buzz of voices is ever-present in the restaurant, and even as they enter their private room in the very back of the restaurant, (because no restaurant in the world _actually_ makes a table that’s able to accommodate 13 people) the vibrations of conversation still bounce off the walls and flow into their room through the cracks in the closed door. Jisoo doesn’t mind though, the noise is comforting.

Feeling a hand suddenly grasp his wrist, Jisoo looks to his right and sees Jeonghan, who’s fervently pointing at the seat next to him, urging Jisoo to sit down. Even though Jisoo knows 99.9% of the reason why Jeonghan is so eager to sit next to him is because he wants to steal meat from his plate when they start eating (“ _But Shua, food tastes better when it’s stolen!”)_ , he sits down nonetheless. The sound of metal scraping against linoleum is grating against Jisoo’s ears as he watches the members rush to sit down at the table and he flashes Seungkwan an annoyed look.

“Seriously? Is it really necessary to fight over seats literally everywhere we go?” Jisoo hears a faint clink as a waiter places metal chopsticks beside Jisoo’s arm. He looks up and gives the waiter a smile, then goes back to glaring at Seungkwan.

“Are you kidding me? _Yes_.” Seungkwan slides his fingers against the side of his glass of ice water, picking up the condensation, and wipes his fingers on Hansol’s cheek.

“Look at his face,” Seungkwan points to Hansol, face scrunched as he reaches for a napkin, wiping the moisture off of his cheek. “And tell me that’s not gratifying.”

“The fact that you feel delight from Hansol’s obvious pain and suffering is concerning.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “You just have zero appreciation for fun.”

Hansol picks up a pair of chopsticks and tries to stab Seungkwan in the chest, but his arm is quickly knocked out of the way as a plate of thinly sliced ribeye is placed onto the glass table. The members spare no shame in grabbing the meat and placing it on the grill, emptying the plate in seconds. The meat sizzles against the hot surface and darkens as oil begins to coat the bottom of the ribeye, shining under the yellow restaurant lights.

Beside him, Jisoo can hear the crunch of pickled radish. He turns around slightly to look at Jeonghan, who’s shaking his head, arms and legs are crossed in disappointment. Jisoo can practically hear the click of Jeonghan’s tongue across the roof of his mouth.

“I honestly don’t know why they feel the need to compete over grill space when they can just calmly eat the sides and wait for other people’s meat to finish cooking,” Jisoo hears another crunch as Jeonghan bites down, chopsticks dangling from his mouth.

“Because they’re _hungry_ , Jeonghan. In case your soul wasn’t actually present with us earlier, we’ve been recording since 7 in the morning,” Jeonghan ignores Jisoo and moves onto the bean sprouts, grabbing nearly half of the bowl in one go, smiling contentedly as he chews.

“It kind of makes sense to just sit back and wait when the entire surface of the grill is covered with meat. I’m sorry they all,” Jeonghan points to the general direction of Soonyoung, who’s pissing everybody off by moving their meat in order to make room for his. “Lack basic logic skills, but I can’t do anything about it.”

“Not everyone can satiate their hunger with free refillable side dishes, Jeonghan,” Jisoo retorts, resting his wrist against the table and tapping his fingers against the glass.

“It’s not like this is all I’m going to eat, I’m just being sensible given our situation. I’m not going to risk my life fighting all twelve of you for grill space.”

“How many times do I have to tell you Seungcheol is _not_ going to push your face onto a hot grill because you won’t let him cook his meat?” Jisoo shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. The room is beginning to heat up, and it doesn’t help that they’re all still sweaty from filming. (Jisoo thinks of the incident they all decided to name _The Great Restaurant Downfall_ and shivers. The lesson they all learned that night was thirteen tipsy men with the ability to eat 100 portions of meat in less than two hours and a tiny restaurant booth should never mix.)

Jeonghan must be thinking the same thing, because he gets up to ask the waiter to turn the thermostat down. On his way back to his seat, he smacks Seungcheol in the back of the head, running away before he can retaliate. “Oh, but he definitely will.”

Jisoo groans and elbows Jeonghan in the side, handing him his chopsticks when he sees most of the members have started to settle down. “Pickled radish and bean sprouts are not acceptable dietary supplements. Eat.”

“And where does it say that, the Book of Joshua?” Jeonghan protests, but he picks up two slices of ribeye anyways and places them on the grill. When they’re finished cooking, he places one in Jisoo’s bowl.

“You can’t just tell me to eat and then not eat yourself,” He tuts, shoving rice into his mouth and chewing.

Jisoo smiles. “Thanks.” He grabs the meat with his chopsticks and places it into his mouth, and it tastes like heaven. It’s cooked perfectly, nearly melting on his tongue the second he places the tiny slice into his mouth and the outside edges have just the right amount of char to make it crunchy, but not bitter. The sauce has the correct balance of saltiness and sweetness, and when he swallows it feels like comfort, crowded restaurants at 1AM after school dances, and the weight of Jeonghan’s hand against his back when they break during practice.

On the other side of the table, Seungcheol looks up from his bowl with two grains of rice stuck to his cheek. “Thank you for the food, this is really good.” He grins while the rest of the members snigger, none of them nice enough to tell him about the food on his face. (Truthfully, Seungcheol has gathered a significant amount of bad karma against him since he became their leader.)

Grabbing another piece of meat off the grill and sliding it into his mouth, Jisoo pulls out his phone and checks his texts, grinning when he sees a notification from Jiyeon. _Saw you on Inkigayo today_. Attached to the text is an image of her posing next to a TV, fingers extended in a peace sign as she grins at the camera. Jisoo blushes, and suddenly he feels the combined heat of a too-cramped restaurant booth and 12 pairs of prying eyes ambush him as the rest of the members stare at Jisoo, who probably looks like the world’s biggest idiot as he smiles down at his lap with chopsticks dangling from his lips like a walrus’ tusks.

“What are you smiling like that for, Shua?” Seungkwan questions. Tiny clinks fill the room as he taps his fingernails on the soju bottle next to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Looking at something particularly exciting?” He continues while everyone snorts. Their waiter hides behind her hands, clearly flustered.

Next to Jisoo, Jeonghan groans. “Oh, come on. He’s not _you,_ Seungkwan. Shua has class. Haven’t you all noticed the general lift in his mood lately and how he’s started to disappear into our room for hours at a time, _and_ how he’s constantly on his phone even when we’re supposed to be practicing or warming up?” He kicks at Jisoo’s leg under the table, hard, and Jisoo’s phone almost falls out of his hand.

Jeonghan continues before Jisoo can kick him back. “It’s obvious he has a girlfriend.”

He kicks Jisoo again, harder this time, and Jisoo’s knuckles turn white as he grabs onto the glass table in pain. He’s half expecting Jeonghan to just continue his tirade and spill all of Jisoo’s deepest, darkest, secrets but when he turns around to curse at Jeonghan for inflicting so much pain on his favorite limb, Jeonghan’s head is _also_ facing his lap and he’s angrily typing away on his phone.

 _What a nuisance,_ Jisoo thinks, when his phone lights up with a text notification. Jisoo thinks he’s never felt as much disappointment than in this present moment, when he checks his phone expecting a text from Jiyeon, only to see a name that he calls daily in frustration and a too-familiar contact picture. (Hint: It’s a picture of Jeonghan with his finger up Jisoo’s nose.)

 

 **y00n jeonghan my bestest friend in the entire world** **:** tell them or i’ll throw your phone off the roof of the pledis building

 **me:** why should i listen to you you bag of dicks

 **me:** also that a bit harsh don’t you think

 **y00n jeonghan my bestest friend in the entire world** **:** because i gave you a perfect window of opportunity and you should take advantage of it

 **y00n jeonghan my bestest friend in the entire world** **:** i believe in u joshuji

 **me:** you make it so difficult for me to go to heaven

 **y00n jeonghan my bestest friend in the entire world** **:** :(

 

Jeonghan kicks him one last time for good measure, and Jisoo sighs in response. He stares at the ceiling in hopes that it will magically crash down and save him from the inconvenience of having to tell all of his immature best friends about his girlfriend, because men in their twenties and finding out about their friend’s significant other is a mixture no one wants to be caught in between.

When the heavens don’t grant his wish for a collapsing roof, he turns to Jeonghan and nods. “I’m not implying that Jeonghan’s observation is right, but Jeonghan’s right.”

Jisoo hears the faint clink of chopsticks being set down and the twisting of a knob as someone reaches to turn the grill off. The silence in the room feels way too heavy, and he stares at the empty bottle of soju in front of him. (He so badly wishes it were something stronger.)

“You have a girlfriend?” Seungcheol questions, looking like he isn’t convinced. He looks over at Jeonghan and raises an eyebrow, and Jeonghan smiles at him in return. Jisoo probably would’ve questioned this exchange if he was in a better state of mind, but for now he chalks it up to the fact that Jeonghan has a big mouth and probably already told Seungcheol about Jiyeon.

“Yeah,” Jisoo shrugs. All of the members are still staring at him, unsure of what to say, and he wishes all twelve of them would just evaporate into dust and make things much easier for him.

“Is she pretty?” Seungkwan asks, awkwardly tearing pieces off of a leaf of lettuce.

“Of course she is,” Seokmin interjects, his face inches away from his bowl of rice. “How lowly do you think of Shua?”

“You think I’ll believe you that easily?” Seungkwan scoffs. “Show us a picture.”

Jisoo grabs Jeonghan’s glass of beer, brings it to his lips, and drinks. “ _Fine._ ”

“Hey, give that back,” Jeonghan whines, sliding the beer back in front of him and leaving a trail of water on the glass table in the process.

Jisoo opens his camera roll and opens a picture of the two of them on a date, fingers intertwined and smiling under a tall oak tree. Jiyeon’s cheeks are pinked and she’s grinning at Jisoo as he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her sundress sways in the wind, as gentle as the breeze, and Jisoo recalls how soft the marigold fabric of her dress had felt beneath his fingertips, and the butterflies in his stomach when he kissed her that afternoon.

Seungkwan tilts the screen so that all of them can see the picture, and he zooms in on Jiyeon’s face, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth in approval. “She’s your type, Shua.”

Soonyoung grins, cheeks filled with rice and meat. “Does Jeonghan approve?”

“ _Does_ he approve?” Seungcheol echoes as if Jeonghan’s approval is actually needed for Jisoo to begin to undergo any significant change in his life.

Jeonghan laughs and Jisoo notices that in the span of two minutes, he’s managed to finish his first glass of beer _and_ drink halfway through his refill. He makes a mental note to remind Jeonghan to slow down after he gets over the initial embarrassment of talking about Jiyeon.

“Of course I approve, Cheol. Like Seungkwan said, she’s Shua’s type.”

He then turns his body to Soonyoung, covers his mouth with his hand, and dramatically whispers, “It’s not like I’m gonna tell him he can do better even if I think he can.”

“All of a sudden, I feel really sick,” Jisoo announces, and drinks the remaining half of Jeonghan’s beer.

 

-

 

Jisoo thoroughly begins to believe that he’s the subject of an evil curse when he’s on a date with Jiyeon and spots a _very_ familiar backside walking on the path in front of them.

The soles of his shoes catch in the gravel path when he suddenly stops walking, arm awkwardly dangling at his side as he lets go of Jiyeon’s hand in a mixture of surprise and nuclear levels of anger. The way he’s standing is uncomfortable and he can feel tiny pebbles pressing against his feet as they stick in the indentations of his shoes, but right now he’s seriously morally debating between flinging himself into a nearby fountain and joining the school of koi that are lazily swimming against the water and just disappearing into the air in a dramatic Wicked Witch of the West melting-esque death, which means he could really care less about the slight feeling of discomfort in his legs when he would much rather just turn into dust and be blown away by the wind.

Jisoo is seconds away from pouring water on himself and evaporating into mist when he feels movement next to him, and the feeling of someone gently tugging on his hand.

“Hey, isn’t that one of your members?” Jiyeon asks, her doe eyes reflecting the golden rays of the summer sun. _She looks ethereal today_ , Jisoo thinks. Her lips are tinted a subtle shade of coral and they remind Jisoo of sparkling grapefruit-ade. She’s wearing a new dress, and her hair drapes perfectly over the white cotton, tickling Jisoo’s cheek when she stands on her tip-toes to kiss him.

The afternoon sun is blinding, the kind of harsh light that forces Jisoo to squint every single minute that he spends outside, but Jiyeon somehow isn’t bothered by the solar rays, and she smiles as she waits for him to answer, sun shining golden against her skin.

Jisoo doesn’t have time to answer before he hears Jeonghan’s lilting voice. He obnoxiously swings his arms at his sides as he walks towards the two of them, grinning so hard Jisoo can clearly see his bubblegum pink gums. Jisoo smiles at him, as gentle as possible, but in actuality he really just wants to knock all of Jeonghan’s teeth out.

“Hi, Shua’s girlfriend. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jeonghan muses. He’s speaking nearly at a whisper so they don’t draw attention to the dog-walkers around them, but somehow his voice is an unagreeable dissonance in Jisoo’s head. Jeonghan talking to Jiyeon feels like playing all the wrong notes of a symphony, uncomfortable modulations beating at Jisoo’s head as the two of them strike up a conversation.

(He has nothing wrong with Jeonghan talking to his girlfriend, they’re bound to meet eventually because he’s his best friend, but the fact that he can so easily talk to her and start complaining about how Jisoo is a terrible best friend within seconds of first meeting her is extremely irritating, and quite frankly, makes Jisoo want to break both of Jeonghan’s legs.)

“Aren’t you supposed to be practicing right now?” Jisoo complains, shuffling his feet in discomfort. The brightness of the sun is starting to mute now that it’s later in the afternoon, and the migratory birds that are flying back for the summer begin to cast shadows against the developing sunset, wings drifting across the subdued shades of orange and pink.

“Aren’t _you_ supposed to be practicing right now, Shua-ya?” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. He barely looks at Jisoo before returning to his conversation with Jiyeon, who’s teary-eyed in amusement as Jeonghan loudly complains about how _Jisoo never does anything around our dorm_ , how _he leaves our room looking like a pigsty_ , and even pulls the _Mingyu came back from the jungle and said our room was in worse condition than the wild, do you really still want to date him?_ card.

“Of course I still do,” Jiyeon smiles, holding onto Jisoo’s arm. Her lashes flutter as she looks up at Jisoo, beaming. “He’s my Shua, after all.”

Jeonghan visibly steps back after hearing the nickname fall so effortlessly out of Jiyeon’s mouth, but seconds later he catches himself and steps forward again, shrugging and shyly meeting Jisoo’s eyes. _Weird,_ Jisoo thinks, but he quickly disregards the odd reaction and chalks it up to the fact that Jeonghan very rarely gets to interact with other human beings outside of him and Seungcheol and needs time to get used to being social again.

“Your Shua,” Jeonghan echoes, eyebrow raising. He grips at the bottom of his shirt, clearly uncomfortable, and shifts his weight from one foot to another. “What if I told you this idiot still calls zucchini baby pumpkin? You’ll still want to date him after that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Jiyeon questions. Jisoo admires her for not giving in to and fighting against Jeonghan’s bullshit antics. _That’s one of the reasons why I like her so much,_ Jisoo thinks. Jiyeon has the confidence and radiating assertiveness that Jisoo never quite managed to possess.

“You know, he never remembers to bring,”

“A towel when he showers, I know,” Jiyeon interrupts softly, smiling as she grabs Jisoo’s hand. Jisoo runs the pad of his thumb across her knuckles, looking at the rose pink polish that coats her delicate fingernails, pretty just like her.

“And he’s on Team Jacob rather than Edward?” Jeonghan pastes that stupid grin that he uses for advertisements and magazine covers onto his face, but someone who knows him as well as Jisoo can still notice how his demeanor has actually changed significantly since he walked towards Jisoo and Jiyeon. Jisoo sees it in the slow rise of his shoulders as he begins to tense, like the steady but soundless building towards a thunderstorm.

He flashes Jeonghan a concerned look, eyes prying and asking him if he’s okay, but Jeonghan returns his gaze with an smile that’s less forced, the natural upturn of his lips pushing Jisoo’s worried thoughts away.

 _It’s probably nothing,_  he tells himself. _Jeonghan’s been weird like this for as long as you can remember._

“Aw, that’s okay. I guess that makes two of us that prefer Jacob’s hot body over Edward’s overdramatic romantic proposals,” Jiyeon giggles, raising her arm and flexing.

A young boy runs towards them, the sides of his shoes lighting up blue and red as he carries a dandelion in his right hand. The tip-taps of his steps against the gravel gradually slow as he comes to a stop in front of Jeonghan’s feet, blowing and allowing the dandelion seeds to scatter around the three of them.

Jisoo instinctively lets go of Jiyeon’s hand and lets his hand reach towards the top of Jeonghan’s head, pulling a stray seed out of Jeonghan’s hair. He notices that his hair is softer, somehow, so Jisoo automatically begins to run his fingers through Jeonghan’s hair, which is as golden as the setting sun and the blooming wild lilies that surround the walkway on which he stands.

“Look at you, Joshuji~” Jeonghan sing-songs, laying his hand on top of Jisoo’s. “Admiring my otherworldly beauty, aren’t you?”

Jisoo scoffs. “You don’t look any different than you do any other day, except for the fact that you’re just slightly more presentable.”

Jeonghan pouts, and Jisoo wishes that his stupid kicked-puppy look was less effective on him. “You are an _asshole_ , Shua.”

They stay like that for a moment, Jisoo lazily running his fingers through Jeonghan’s hair while songbirds scurry around them, anxious to return to their nests before the sun sets.

In fact, it isn’t until he feels the weight of Jiyeon uneasily pulling on his hand that he realizes how long they had been standing like that -- Jisoo running his fingers through his best friend’s hair while his girlfriend stands awkwardly beside him.

 _You probably shouldn’t be admiring how soft your best friend’s hair is right now, Jisoo._ Jisoo brings his hand back to his side and allows it to find Jiyeon’s, grabbing her small hand so that they’re palm-to-palm.

Jeonghan just laughs at Jisoo because he has no mercy.

Jiyeon tugs at Jisoo’s hand again, and Jeonghan’s grin widens.

The quiet but incessant flapping of dragonfly wings makes its way into Jisoo’s brain, and he wants to cry because he feels as if he’s disappointed Jiyeon. _Of all places, why did he have to come here?_

“Ah... I see.” Jeonghan makes eye contact with Jisoo and Jisoo can see the way he scans over his face and _understands._  

(Jisoo hates that he’s so good at reading his emotions. He absolutely hates it.)

He apologizes to Jisoo with his eyes, warm chocolate against the setting sun, and starts to walk away.

“You two look great together. Shua-ya, you have my stamp of approval,” Jeonghan turns and gives Jisoo one last smile, _I’m sorry,_ and raises both of his hands in two over-enthusiastic thumbs-ups.

As soon as Jeonghan’s backside falls into the busy backdrop that is the Han River in the summertime, Jiyeon turns Jisoo towards her and lines up her custard-yellow heels with Jisoo’s Superstars, worn-out from practices that go until dawn.

“Are you two always that,” She looks up as if she’s searching for the right word to use. “Friendly with each other?”

“I guess. He’s my best friend though, so our friendship has always been like that,” He shrugs.

To Jisoo, everything he does with Jeonghan is normal. He’s his best friend, and they’ve both acted the same way towards each other for five years now, so why would there be a reason to find things weird?

“He seems enjoy skinship quite a lot,” Jiyeon points out, fixing the hem of her dress. She runs her hands down the sides of the fabric uncomfortably while a small breeze brushes by, blowing her hair out of place.

Jisoo laughs and tucks her hair behind her ear. “We’ve been through a lot of s-,” Jisoo stops and corrects himself before the word falls out, his mind reminds him that shouldn’t curse in front of Jiyeon, because she hates it.

“We both went through a lot when we were trainees and we both helped each other through a lot, so I guess that automatically makes us a lot closer than other people.”

“I still don’t get why he needs to get so _close_ with you, though.”

Jisoo shrugs. “He’s smart. I know way too much about him and he knows way too much about me for him to just cut me off.”

In reality, Jisoo knows that sometimes when Jeonghan lets his guard down, he still sees that naive and lonely trainee from 5 years ago inside of him. It’s like a part of him thinks that if he lets Jisoo runs too far, he’ll lose him forever.

 _Jeonghan over-analyzes things a lot of the time,_ is what Jisoo wants to say. _He’s extremely good at reading people and situations, but that just makes it so that his intuition gets the best of him and most of the time it hurts more than it helps. He gets insecure easily because he understands people better than you and me, a deeper than surface level type of understanding. That’s why I think he’s so afraid to let me go. Why I’m so afraid to let him go,_ he wants to say.

“He wants to keep me close because we’ve always supported one another, you know? Like, I can lean on him and he knows that he can lean on me,” is what Jisoo says instead.

It hits him then that he’s never really known a friendship with Jeonghan that didn’t consist of touches that linger for a second too long during practice, or waking up the mornings after thunderstorms to tangled limbs and a sudden 178-centimeter presence beside him.

“I guess that makes sense,” Jiyeon kisses him, but it feels nothing like the bursts of static that run across his entire body when Jeonghan leans in an inch too close to whisper something to Jisoo in the middle of practice. “But you have to promise not to love him more than you love me.”

Jisoo links her pinky with his and presses their thumbs together. “Promise.”

The sun has fully set by now, revealing a velvet black sky adorned with stars in orbit. The Han River shines dark blue and golden as the water reflects the light from Seoul’s ever-busy skyline, but all Jisoo can think about is how even as he smiled, Jeonghan’s words seemed to be like a premonition before a storm, and how his disappearing silhouette looked more like the shadows cumulonimbus clouds cast as they threaten to drench the earth with pouring rain.

He wonders why his promise to Jiyeon feels wrong, when to him, loving her is as effortless and easy as breathing.

Jisoo’s standing next to the prettiest girl in the world, a girl who he loves more than anything, with her fruit-punch lips, her soft brown hair that falls just below her shoulders, and her tiny hand that feels just right in Jisoo’s.

It’s supposed to feel perfect, but it doesn’t.

 

-

 

Jisoo feels like he’s about to break into pieces. He feels like a scream that doesn’t quite find its way out of the back of his throat, like disjointed fragments of choreography and limbs that tangle and don’t work no matter how many nerve signals his brain sends to them. He checks the clock on the wall that reads 2:13 AM, the flickering red light displaying the time the only source of illumination in the dark room, and draws circles onto the practice room mirror, blurred with condensation.

The laptop next to him is still obnoxiously blaring music, a melody that’s turned into something like an echo of things gone wrong, reverberations of a sentence that rings non-stop in his mind: _You will never be enough, you will never be enough, you will never be enough._

Jisoo pretends like the loneliness he feels isn’t suffocating, like the disappointment he feels in himself doesn’t soak him to the bone like summer downpours. He opens a window and lets the pouring rain fall on his head.

He catches the raindrops in his palm and wishes to be enough.

He wants to scream.

Jisoo makes a total of twenty wishes before he comes in, swinging the doors open and letting the wind rush in with a huff. Jisoo hears him first, the sound of wet shoes against linoleum, the shaking of a head and water drops falling onto a hard surface. He smells like the tropical mango shampoo from aisle twelve at the roadside store in front of the dorms and he smells like wet pavement, the comforting kind that welcomes you home after a storm.

A pair of sneakers stop in front of Jisoo, just as worn and dirty as his own.

“You know, you shouldn’t make promises to me if you can’t hold up your side of the promise,” Jeonghan sits down, and his hand finds its way to Jisoo’s. His fingers are wet with rain as they scale down the surface of Jisoo’s palm, the motion meant to reassure Jisoo.

Jisoo feels numb and his head feels like it’s filled with dense fog, so he ignores him. “Did you run here?” _You’re terrified of thunderstorms, why did you run here?_ is what he really wants to ask.

“That’s a totally irrelevant detail that has nothing to do with what I’m trying to discuss with you right now,” Jeonghan laughs. He pulls Jisoo closer in that _you’re my best friend so I’ve officially assumed that no boundaries exist between us_ way of his and gently pushes Jisoo’s head down so that it rests in the crook of his neck.

It’s supposed to be comforting, but Jisoo just wants to scream.

“Where’s your umbrella?” The rain outside doesn’t stop. Jisoo can see horizontal lines of rain slamming against the window, propelled forward by gusts of wind. He starts to wonder why Jeonghan ran to the practice room for him, but the thought is quickly blurred by the thick condensation that sticks to his brain.

“Gone, along with your ability to care for yourself,” Jeonghan says. Jisoo hates how easily the words fall out of his mouth. He hates that Jeonghan is _always_ right.

“Don’t.” He wants to wonder what it is about him that makes Jeonghan care so much.

“Why not, Shua~ I’m only two months older than you, yet you act like a baby! I can’t believe I wasted water by taking a shower after practice tonight when I just ran through the biggest storm of the year to get to you because you’re always internalizing your feelings.”

Jisoo doesn’t answer him, instead watches the rhythmic blinking of the red colon that separates the hour and the minutes in the middle of the clock on the wall.

Jeonghan continues. “Have we turned into friends that _don’t_ tell each other their deepest, darkest secrets, Shua-ya?”

“Of course not,” Jisoo really, _really, really_ wants to scream.

“Then what about this makes it so hard to tell me?” Jeonghan’s prying and Jisoo hates that he made him pry. He wants to wonder what makes this time different when Jeonghan has always been careful and understanding about things like this. He never forces Jisoo into uncomfortable situations, always knows not to press for information that Jisoo doesn’t want to give out, and Jisoo wants to wonder why he’s doing this when he _knows_ that it’s selfish of him to keep things from him.

“It’s really nothing.” His mind doesn’t let him wonder. He continues to hide anyways, even though Jeonghan’s done nothing wrong.

“It obviously _is_ something if you haven’t left our practice room for hours when you’ve never stayed here for more than 10 minutes after practice ends. Plus, you turned all the lights off and you’re sitting in a corner with the window open during a storm. You don’t care that your hair is all wet even though you carry an umbrella even when it’s only drizzling outside because your hair starts to curl when it’s wet and you hate it.” Jeonghan sighs, and pushes Jisoo’s hair away from his eyes.

“Something’s wrong, Jisoo, and I hate that you won’t tell me what it is.” Jisoo touches his rain-soaked hair and begs his mind to stop shielding itself from the truth when all he wants to do is break down and scream.

He wants to ask Jeonghan why he cares so much. “It’s nothing that you would understand, anyways.” It comes out wrong.

“Well then _make_ me understand. Do you really think it doesn’t hurt to see my best friend like this? You’re not being yourself right now and you know it, Jisoo.” He doesn’t loosen his grip on Jisoo’s hand and the rain doesn’t stop falling.

“Jeonghan, how can you even begin to understand what I’m going through when you’re perfect? You’re miles and miles ahead of me in training even though you came nearly a month after me. Your quick improvement is constantly being praised by the CEO and the members, you’re used as an example every time we learn a new choreography because you’re perfect and everyone loves you and can’t get enough of your fluidity when you dance or your ability to utilize your stupid eye smile and your stupid grin to pull expressions together during performances.”

Jisoo wants to apologize, but it comes out wrong.

“I didn’t realize you thought of me that way,” Jeonghan’s breathing is still steady as ever and he’s still holding onto Jisoo’s hand, the pad of his thumb running across his knuckles.

“Do you know how fucking terrible it feels to be the only person who can’t get the combination right, how it feels to be the one person that falls flat in the middle of a performance? It feels like all I do these days is disappoint all of you. Like we’re a boat trying our hardest to push to our debut but I’m the fucking anchor stuck to the bottom of the ocean that prevents us from moving forward.”

Jeonghan slaps him, and Jisoo watches the water from his hair spray onto the floor, illuminated by the red glow of the analog clock still flashing steadily against the wall. He doesn’t react or retaliate, his mind won’t let him.

“Jisoo, I don’t care if you refuse to believe that I went through the exact same shit that you’re going through right now, but how can you possibly say that about yourself? How can you think for even a second that you’re a burden to me, a burden to all of us?” Jeonghan’s still composed even after hitting him, inhaling and exhaling slowly. His palm meets Jisoo’s again, even though the two of them have never even argued with one another, much less get physical, and even in the dark room, Jisoo can see how flushed his skin is.

He touches his cheek. It hurts, but it’s nothing compared to the broken promises that lay discarded inside of his head. Jeonghan continues. Not even a single strand of hair on his head is out of place. “God, Jisoo, if it wasn’t for you I would’ve left this stupid building and this company that doesn’t know how to fucking take care of their trainees a long time ago.”

 _That’s not true._ His mind tries to tell him, and Jisoo tries his hardest to fight it.

“Jisoo, you can’t make promises to me if you don’t believe in them yourself.”

Jisoo doesn’t answer. Instead he presses his ear to the wall and listens to the rain come to a steady stop and tries to clear his mind.

“I’m your best fucking friend. I care about you more than you let yourself believe I do, Jisoo, and you have to let me help you. I’m not debuting if it means I have to spend the rest of my career standing on stages without you by my side. So let me help you, because if you quit, then I quit too.” Jeonghan continues, trying to meet Jisoo's eyes.

Jisoo tries to focus on the steady beating of Jeonghan’s heart instead of the voices. He matches his breathing with Jeonghan’s, and squeezes Jeonghan’s hand, re-familiarizing himself with the weight of Jeonghan’s hand in his own.

The clouds in his head clear, and the cumulonimbus clouds outside blow away. He finds the glow of the moon in Jeonghan’s collarbone, and pulls him closer. “Okay.”

“I think I might've gotten over my fear of thunderstorms by running to you, maybe some good did come out of this,” Jeonghan giggles, and Jisoo allows himself to relax. He closes his eyes and falls asleep listening to the beat of Jeonghan’s heart, steady and strong like the arm that rests on Jisoo’s shoulders.

Jisoo wakes up the next morning to the smell of tropical mango shampoo from aisle twelve at the roadside store in front of the dorms and wet pavement, the comforting kind that welcomes you home after a storm. He lets his head fall to the crook of Jeonghan’s neck for just a moment longer, and smiles.

 

-

 

“Go to a Standing Egg concert with me today.”

Jisoo’s abruptly woken up by the sight of a familiar face staring at him, attached to a head hanging upside down from the bunk on top of him. Rubbing his eyes, Jisoo shoots his arm upward with no warning as if he’s launching himself out of his bed and hits Jeonghan square in the jaw.

“You idiot. We leave for the first stop of our world tour _tomorrow_ , and you think we have time to go to a concert?” Jisoo sits up, leaning against the bed frame, knocking his pinky ring against the wood panels currently supporting Jeonghan’s body. It makes a comforting sound, a mix between a thump and a click.

“Actually, Einstein, we have exactly twenty-four hours if you get out of bed now and help me convince Seungcheol to let us go,” Jeonghan’s still staring at Jisoo through the ladder that connects their two beds, and Jisoo has to seriously fight the urge to flick him in the forehead.

Jisoo groans. “No way in hell am I going to your concert with you, Jeonghan.”

The response Jeonghan gives him is less than enthusiastic. His eyes widen and his right brow begins to raise, and Jisoo knows that if he doesn’t agree to Jeonghan’s proposition within the next thirty seconds, his lower lip will jut out in a pout and Jisoo will be one step closer to dragging Jeonghan to the floor by his hair and fatally injuring him.

“You can’t do that. I’ve been so nice to you this past week. Look, I even let you sleep past your alarm today.” Jeonghan pouts and Jisoo points to his lips. _See,_ he tells himself. _I knew he would do this._

“Are you sure all that blood rushing to your head because of your current position isn’t affecting your ability to think rationally?”

“Of course not. I’m being _very_ realistic right now,” Jeonghan climbs out of his bed anyways, grabs Jisoo’s covers from on top of him in one swift motion, throws them onto the ground, and then crawls into Jisoo’s bunk. “Move.”

Jeonghan’s order was really of no use, because within ten seconds of him climbing into Jisoo’s bed, he’s already taken up 80% of the space in Jisoo’s bunk -- which barely had enough room for one person to sleep in to begin with, much less two. (The lack of space hasn’t stopped Jeonghan from climbing into Jisoo’s bed for the past five years, however.)

“We only have twenty-four hours left until the concert, I don’t understand why you think we can’t go to the concert when we’ve already prepared enough for ours! There’s nothing left for us to do.”

“Excellent stage presence waits for no man,” Jisoo cites, jutting his chin forward and pushing his eyelid back in an exaggerated attempt to imitate Jeonghan. “That’s what you said to me no less than one month ago.”

“Shuaaaaa~, please just go with me! Please! I’m even asking you nicely…” Jeonghan whines, pushing at Jisoo’s feet with his own.

Jeonghan audibly gasps and his nose scrunches in what can only be described as a mixture that is equal parts of disgust and disappointment. “ _Disgusting_. I can’t believe you still sleep with socks on.”

“It’s comfortable, and no.” Jisoo wants to punch Jeonghan in the nose, but he can’t tell if he’s angry because Jeonghan is being a royal pain in the ass or if he’s angry at how _cute_ Jeonghan looks with his nose scrunched.

“Come on, you know how much I like Standing Egg! Please go with me~”

“No, I’d rather not get dismembered by Seungcheol today.”

“Cheol owes me a favor! He’ll let us go, please?” Jeonghan looks like he’s about to fall to the floor and beg Jisoo to accompany him, and for a moment Jisoo feels bad for him. Maybe he should just give in and agree to tag along, but it’s so much more _fun_ this way, watching Jeonghan get desperate.

“I guess,” Jeonghan visibly perks up at this, lips turning upwards in a smile. “I’m still going to have to decline.”

Jeonghan grabs Jisoo’s head and hits him in the back of his head, the metal of his ring knocking perfectly against the soft part of Jisoo’s skull.

Jisoo reflexively raises his arm in an attempt to hit him back, but Jeonghan glares at him and Jisoo swears he can see literal _lazers_ shoot out of his eyes, so he decides to relax.

“ _Shua,_ but I like them so much! Come on, you get so sad whenever our fans can’t come to our shows because they’re too busy so if you prevent me from going to this Standing Egg concert you’re going to be venturing into hypocrite territory.”

He _does_ like them a lot, Jisoo admits to himself. Jisoo can always hear their songs -- comprised of irritating ukulele chords and a sound he can only describe as synthesized wind chimes flowing out of Jeonghan’s earbuds whenever they walk to practice.

“Hypocrite, that’s bit of a stretch isn’t it?” Jisoo grabs the back of Jeonghan’s neck and squeezes, earning a yelp.

“Joshua’s a hypocrite~, Shua’s a bit fat hypocrite~” Jeonghan sing-songs, earning a _shut up, or I’m going to file a noise complaint_ from Mingyu, who’s currently going through his very busy morning routine of sleeping past his alarm in the room next to them.

“It’s not like you were gonna practice today anyways,” Jeonghan pouts to himself, arms crossed over his chest. Jisoo notices that the definition in his forearms has become much more prominent, likely due to the fact that he’s been spending a lot of extra time in the practice room doing God-knows-what.

“I know you were planning to spend the entire day with Jiyeon, but can’t you accompany your best friend to a concert he _really really really really_ wants to go to anyways? It’s good for your image~”

Jisoo grabs Jeonghan’s arm and squeezes, raising one corner of his mouth in a smirk. “Wow, look at you! When did you get so ripped?”

Jeonghan pushes Jisoo away, scoffing and childishly turning towards the bed frame in order to avoid eye contact with Jisoo. “I’ve _been_ this ripped for a while now, you’re just too busy staring at your girlfriend and holding her tiny hands to notice.”

“Is that what this is about? Yoon Jeonghan, are you _jealous_ of Jiyeon because of how much time I spend with her?” Jisoo laughs, grabbing Jeonghan’s palm, the only place on his body that’s ticklish, and drags the tips of his fingers across his skin.

“Of course not! I told you before I could get any girl in the world if I wanted to. We should consider just locking me up in this dorm permanently, if I go out too much I fear it won’t bode well for Seoul’s female population,” Jeonghan says dramatically in between giggles, trying to wiggle his hand out of Jisoo’s strong grip.

“You flatter yourself far too much.”

“Actually, I read in a gossip magazine that 80% of women find confidence an extremely attractive quality, and consider it to be a leading factor in choosing a partner.”

“The most shocking part of what you just said is surprisingly not the fact that people apparently find your huge ego attractive, but the fact that you read gossip magazines.”

How Jeonghan even finds the time to do that when they barely even have time to breathe with their crazy practice schedule is beyond Jisoo.

“It’s important to research in order to adapt to the changing tastes of the social circles that surround me,” Jeonghan says nonchalantly.

Jisoo notices that during the brief period of time that the two of them were discussing Jeonghan’s odd habits, he has somehow managed to procure a nail file from thin air and is now filing his nails with care, hand propped up on his left knee. “Yah, then I take it that it’ll only be a matter of time before you have Seoul’s entire male population wrapped around your finger as well.”

Jeonghan laughs brightly while blowing on his gracefully extended fingers, carefully dropping his nail file onto Jisoo’s blanket. “Shua, not when you know the only guy I would ever let myself fall for is you!”

“Using flattery to convince me to go to the concert with you? That’s a new low for even you, the self-proclaimed modern king of psychological warfare.”

“Then why are you blushing?” Jeonghan pokes at Jisoo’s cheeks, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not,” Jisoo touches his pinking cheeks and wonders when they got so hot.

“You _are_ , which means my flattery worked, right? Now you _have_ to go to the concert with me.”

“When did I say I wasn’t?” Jisoo smiles, but Jeonghan is already pulling him out of his bed by his legs, grinning at his success.

“Look at you Shua~ going back on your words after I successfully flattered you.”

Jisoo’s too busy running after Jeonghan and listening to his laughter ring in the hallways to notice the warmth that had blossomed in his chest as a result of Jeonghan’s earlier words, and when he finally catches up to him and wraps his arms around Jeonghan’s waist, he’s too busy trying to step on Jeonghan’s feet to notice how comfortable it feels, how comfortable it has always felt to have Jeonghan in his arms.

But even so, he still finds Jiyeon’s voice in the back of his head, lilting and sweet.  _Are you two always that friendly with each other?_ and he pulls away from Jeonghan, hand uncomfortably resting on the back of his neck.

 

-

 

“You look so stupid right now,” Jisoo points out, watching Jeonghan from behind as he turns the flashlight feature on his phone on and off in preparation for the concert.

Jeonghan ignores him. “This isn’t going to work, the flashlight turns off as soon as you start recording.” He pouts, turning his phone over and smoothing his thumb over the camera, as if the simple motion would magically rewire his phone and fix everything.

“Do you think I could get away with bringing,” Jeonghan reaches towards the back of their manager’s car and Jisoo can hear the shuffling of moving boxes for two minutes until Jeonghan’s head re-emerges from the trunk as he raises his arms, a lightstick in each hand -- their lightstick, to be exact. “Our lightsticks?”

“No, unless you _want_ to be the number one search topic on Naver.”

“Well, then what am I supposed to do?” Jeonghan falls back into his seat in defeat, turning his wrists back and forth as he taps the lightsticks together in a slow rhythm.

“It’s not like I can wave my phone flashlight around when they play Starry Night and record at the same time, I want to enjoy the concert experience with my own eyes but I also need tangible evidence that I was there, that I was really at a Standing Egg Concert.” He rambles, and Jisoo feels his eyes crinkle with fondness.

“I’ll record videos for y-” The sound of hard plastic hitting against itself gets louder and starts to accelerate as Jeonghan gets more upset, his head tilted slightly to the right dejectedly. “-Jeonghan, stop. You’re going to break them. I’ll record videos for you, you just focus on the concert.”

Jeonghan’s expression immediately lightens and the tapping stops as he starts to grin at Jisoo. “Ooh, I didn’t think of that, Shua~”

“Hey, look at how fast your expression changed,” Jisoo points at Jeonghan’s grin, rolling his eyes as he tries to convince his mind that _no, Jeonghan’s current expression isn’t the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your twenty-two years of life._

“You’re such a child.”

“I can’t even get mad at you for saying that today, Shua! You’re so self-sacrificing~” Jeonghan pulls at Jisoo’s wrist, laughing.

“Maybe that’s what makes you so popular with the ladies, huh?” Jisoo wishes Jeonghan would stop teasing him so much for having a girlfriend.

“Will you _ever_ stop bringing up Jiyeon every time we have a conversation?”

The best-friend folder in his brain dedicated to Jeonghan reminds him that once Jeonghan expresses an interest in something, he goes all out and bites onto it like a fish hooks onto bait. He’s likely to think about it all hours of the day and keep talking about it forever, which means that he’s probably never going to stop teasing Jisoo about Jiyeon.

Jisoo thinks back to the time right before their debut when Jeonghan had suddenly started to collect socks -- it got so bad that at one point there were more socks of every color and pattern Jisoo could ever think of visible on the floor of their room than actual hardwood itself.

“No, because I’m jealous of her,” Jeonghan says childishly, kicking at Jisoo’s feet.

Jisoo’s shuffles through the files in his mind that make up Jeonghan and cites July 12th, 2013, the day Jeonghan ignored him for eight hours straight and refused to tell him why for another twelve. The reason had turned out to be because Jisoo started to spend more time around Seungcheol, thus setting a precedent in Jisoo’s mind -- Jeonghan gets jealous easily.

“You just said you _weren’t_ jealous of her this morning.”

“Well, I _lied!”_

Jisoo laughs. “How could I ever put anybody above my _best friend forever_?”

Jisoo thinks back to the promise he made to Jiyeon just a week earlier, and he’s shocked by how _stupid_ he finds it. How could he ever put anyone on the same level as Jeonghan, whose hundreds of sleepless nights and tears under ink-black skies shared with Jisoo has led him to understand him on a level no one would ever be capable of reaching.

But then again, Jiyeon is pretty and perfect and _easy_ to spend time with, and Jisoo’s never really been that good at breaking promises.

“We never have time to do anything together anymore because you’re always with her,” Jeonghan complains. They pull up in front of the venue, and Jeonghan sits up just a little bit straighter, ears reddening in excitement. _I’m not,_ _it’s normal for me to want to spend time with my girlfriend,_ Jisoo wants to argue, but he knows Jeonghan too well to do something so childish.

Jisoo grabs a lightstick from Jeonghan’s hand and grips his now-empty hand in his own, turning the lightstick on and smiling. “Hey, we’re going to a concert together today, aren’t we? Plus, I bet if we sneak these in secretly we won’t get accused of shamelessly promoting our own group.”

Jeonghan smiles back, hand relaxing in Jisoo’s grip. Jisoo’s mind flips back to the _Seungcheol Situation_ \-- Jeonghan may be one of the most dramatic people he’s ever crossed paths with, but he forgives easily with reassurance.

“I didn’t even want you to come with me, you were my second choice after Seungcheol.”

“Watch your words, I’m one second away from asking for my phone back.”

“I didn’t mean it Shua! You’re my first choice, you’re _always_ my first choice!”

Things are easy with Jiyeon. But in that moment, as they both tumble out of the car, Jisoo running after Jeonghan in a crowded parking lot as the afternoon sun beats down harshly on their faces and the sound of their shared laughter blends in with the incessant chattering of the concertgoers around them, Jisoo thinks they’re even easier with Jeonghan.

 

-

 

When they make their way out of the concert venue, the sun’s already set and made way for the moon. The sky is a dark blue transitioning into a heavy black, mostly clear save for a few distant stars, their glow really only visible to Jisoo if he squints.

The temperature has dropped significantly since the afternoon, and a comforting breeze sweeps through the entire area around Jisoo, reminiscent of the soft summer winds back in LA that cooled the nine-year old him down after an evening of chasing after fireflies in his backyard.

Jisoo starts walking towards their parking spot listening to the rough gravel road crunch below his feet, but Jeonghan grabs onto his wrist tightly and squeezes before he can take more than ten steps forward, prompting Jisoo to face him.

“It’s still early, and we finished packing last night. Let’s stay for a bit, I feel like I haven’t spent time alone with you in forever,” He points to the river across from them, the water nearly unmoving under the faraway stars.

Jisoo follows Jeonghan’s outstretched hand with his gaze and watches the gentle ripple of water as leaves from the weeping willows that stand tall above the river descend into the water, the still body of water acting as a gentle indigo blanket breaking the fall of the leaves.

Their manager nods in the direction of their car. “I’ll wait for you here, then.”

“No, that’s okay. You can head back, we’ll find our way home,” Jeonghan grins, and Jisoo raises a brow in confusion.

“I thought you said we were only going to stay for a bit? I’m sure he doesn’t mind waiting for a few minutes,” Jisoo shrugs and their manager smiles in agreement, his body half-turned as he stops in the middle of walking towards their parking spot.

Jeonghan’s still gripping Jisoo’s wrist, the pressure of his fingers against Jisoo’s skin becoming increasingly urgent. “That was obviously just for dramatic flair. When have you ever known me to spend less than an hour in public spaces like these?”

“How many times do we have to tell you sitting in a park at 1AM and waiting for the entire animal kingdom to make their way towards you like you’re Steve Irwin is not an acceptable pastime?” Their manager jokes, but turns around and starts to leave anyways.

“Take all the time you need, but don’t blame me when it takes a bucket of ice water to both of your heads to wake you up for our flight tomorrow.”

“What can I say, nature is my calling~” Jeonghan calls out to his retreating figure, laughing.

“Just go, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Their manager laughs with one final turn of his body and Jeonghan starts to pull Jisoo towards the crosswalk in the middle of the parking lot.

Jisoo watches the busy bike lanes in front of him and the changing of traffic lights from red to green and somehow, his mind filters back to when he and Jeonghan were no more than two lost trainees, with nothing to lean on besides each other. The swing of overhead road signs remind him of the countless 4AM walks they’ve taken from the practice room to their dorm, the leftover street food given to them from roadside vendors served with a _you’ve worked hard_ that they’ve shared, and Jisoo feels strangely nostalgic.

Something in the way the moonlight reflects in Jeonghan’s eyes as they cross the street and make their way towards the white bridge that overlooks the river tells Jisoo that he feels the same way.

“Hey, when we were trainees, I used to come here all the time while you were asleep.”

Jisoo scoffs. “Don’t lie. You can barely drive in the daytime without hitting everything on any sidewalk within a 10-foot radius of you, how could you possibly have navigated your way over here after midnight?”

“For one, there’s actually something really comforting about driving really late at night while running on nothing but endorphins from practice.”

“That’s extremely dangerous. What if you killed someone?”

“But I didn’t, did I?” Jeonghan stops and jokingly shifts his gaze away from Jisoo. “Or, at least, not that I know of.”

“Ooh, I might unknowingly be hanging out with a murderer, how edgy,” Jisoo jokes, hitting Jeonghan on the shoulder.

They reach the bridge and Jeonghan instinctively rests his arms on the white railing, forearms dangling towards the rippling water.

“I can’t believe you condone murder, you psychopath.” A breeze brushes through Jeonghan’s hair and blows his bangs out of place.

(Not that they were even that neat in the first place, especially when Jeonghan might as well be the first human on Earth that treats an indie acoustic concert like a rock concert.)

“I can’t believe _you_ might’ve murdered someone, you psychopath,” Jisoo mocks. He reaches a hand up to the top of Jeonghan’s head and parts his hair for him, finding a familiar comfort in the feeling of Jeonghan’s hair between his fingers.

“ _Anyways._ Show me the pictures you took,” Jeonghan demands, grabbing at Jisoo’s phone. Jisoo gives up in a matter of seconds and hands his phone to him, not in the mood to wrestle with Jeonghan over his phone at 11PM, especially when they’re just feet away from a large body of water.

Jeonghan’s fingers fly across the screen as he types in Jisoo’s password. “Shua, you really need a better password than 1-2-3-4.”

“Why? It’s easy to remember and easy to punch in,” Jisoo argues, moving closer to Jeonghan in order to make sure he’s actually looking through Jisoo’s camera roll and not doing something _fucking stupid_ on his phone.

“Change it to 9-6-6-6-5-3-6-6-4-4-2-6,” Jeonghan proposes.

“No, and for the love of God, can you not hold my phone directly above a _river_?” Jisoo watches as Jeonghan leans into the railing, absentmindedly swiping at his phone screen as he loosely holds onto it in his right hand.

“Why not?” Jeonghan blatantly ignores Jisoo’s concerns and continues to scan through Jisoo’s pictures, extending his forearms further towards the river.

Jisoo can see the corners of Jeonghan’s eyes crinkle in a grin, and he questions why he ever chose to be friends with him. “Forgive me for not wanting to have an entire biography as my phone password, Jeonghan.”

“It’s sentimental though! It spells out Y-O-O-N J-E-O-N-G-H-A-N,” Jeonghan croons, noisily tapping his fingers against Jisoo’s pink phone case.

“I’m not going to die because I was too slow to call 9-1-1 when I’m being chased down by a serial killer because I had to type out your long ass name,” Jisoo says bluntly. He moves behind Jeonghan and slides his arm around his waist, successfully reclaiming his phone from Jeonghan’s grip.

“After all that I’ve done for you? Come on,” Jeonghan replies, and Jisoo just lets out a forced sign in return. (The pacifist in him admits that the password somehow does feel protective in that _your password must have a capital letter, number, and special character_ kind of way.)

“If by doing something for me you’re implying that you’re going to give me hypertension and cardiovascular disease before I turn thirty, then yes, you’ve done a lot for me,” Jisoo grumbles, trying not to think about how if there weren’t so many peoplearound his fist would probably already have made contact with Jeonghan’s stomach.

“Give it back,” Jeonghan says while motioning at Jisoo’s phone. “I’ll change it for you.”

Jisoo hugs his phone to his chest protectively, scowling at Jeonghan. “ _No._ You’ve already invaded my phone like some antibiotic-resistant bacteria, I don’t need any more of you on my personal property than there already is.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Shua-ya, it’s not that bad,” Jeonghan turns around so that his back is leaning against the railing and he crosses his arms across his chest, tilting his head towards the sky. “I’m only on your lockscreen, homescreen, and Kakao prof-”

“That’s exactly my point, you’ve peed all over my phone and marked it as my territory since the day I first got it,” Jisoo says, looking over his shoulder and meeting Jeonghan’s gaze.

“You’ve clearly created a false narrative in your mind because there’s absolutely no way I would do something so unhygenic,” Jeonghan sing-songs, tapping both of Jisoo’s shoulders (left, then right) to annoy him.

“I can’t stand you,” Jisoo grumbles, annoyed. He links his fingers with Jeonghan’s and rests both their hands on his right shoulder.

“You love being friends with me, don’t get it twisted,” Jeonghan’s eyes visibly _twinkle_ as he says this, and it’s enough to tell Jisoo that he caught the hint of fondness in Jisoo’s voice as he complained about Jeonghan just 30 seconds earlier.

“Whatever, here,” Jisoo says while passing his phone back to Jeonghan whose fingers are literally twitching in the back pockets of his jeans, because he’s nosy and childish and can’t go more than two minutes without having his hands on someone else’s things. “Look through the pictures again, I like you best with your mouth shut.”

“Kinky, Jisoo,” Jeonghan cackles in amusement, probably relishing the fact that he was able to get Jisoo flustered again.  

“I’ll keep quiet just for you.”

Jisoo senses movement in his peripheral, but by the time his nerves wake up to respond it’s too late and Jeonghan’s index finger is already pressed into the side of his neck.

Jisoo hisses in pain and swats at Jeonghan’s hand, grimacing. “Fuck you, you know I hate that.”

Jeonghan just smiles and presses his lips together in silence, raising his left hand and pretending to zip his mouth closed.

“You can talk, you absolute fucking asshole,” Jisoo grips the railing in front of him and watches his knuckles turn milky white.

Jeonghan dramatically exhales as if he’d been holding his breath underwater. “Your pictures suck, Shua’s a bad photographer~”

“That’s why I’m in a boy group, dickhead.”

Jeonghan suddenly snakes his arm around Jisoo’s neck and pulls him closer to him. Jisoo can smell the tropical mango shampoo on his hair, and he feels strangely nostalgic. “This one’s not that bad though, what do you think?”

Jisoo rolls his eyes before glancing at the phone screen. The picture in question is a side-profile of Jeonghan, face barely illuminated by purple stage lights. His lips are slightly parted in wonder as he glances at the stage in front of him, hair sticking to the side of his cheek.

It’s the most at peace Jisoo thinks he’s ever seen Jeonghan, and an unfamiliar warmth settles in the bottom of his stomach as he stares blankly at the candid picture of his best friend, face lit up with nothing more than stage lights and pure happiness.

“Yeah, I like it,” Jisoo whispers, voice catching in his throat. (In that moment, he thinks he’d give anything to see Jeonghan in that state of tranquility forever.)

Jeonghan just stares at Jisoo in that dumb way of his that makes Jisoo almost certain that he can read his thoughts, so he shakes himself out of his weird mood and brushes his hair out of his eyes. “But you know which one I like better?” He takes his phone and scrolls down towards his most recent pictures, pressing on a picture from the second row closest to the bottom.

“The one of you crying during How Would It Be.”

“I did not cry,” Jeonghan says defensively, squinting so he can get a closer look at the picture.

“If I loved you, what would we be like? If I confessed to you, what would we be like? Would things be more comfortable than they are now? If I waited a bit more, what would that be like? I’ll remain as your friend and wait, wait, wait, like this~” Jisoo sings, laughing at Jeonghan as he watches the tips of his ears turn red in embarrassment.

“I did _not_ peg you for a sad romantic, Yoon Jeonghan,” Jisoo says while pointing at Jeonghan’s chest, laughing.

“I’m not a sad romantic, I just have more experience with love than you think,” Jeonghan scoffs, crossing his left leg over the right.

“I necessarily wouldn’t call one high school romance love experience. Plus, didn’t you break up with her? What would you know about unrequited love?” Jisoo questions, nudging Jeonghan with his shoulder.

“First of all, you have no solid proof that I cried, and second, it’s none of your business.”

“So you do have relationship problems but didn’t tell me? I thought we were best friends _forever_.” Jisoo says, dragging out the last word in an effort to mock Jeonghan.

(He also notices how Jeonghan starts to uncomfortably shift his weight from one foot to another, so it’s also an attempt to lighten the mood and comfort him. He really does hate making Jeonghan feel awkward, no matter how many times a day he wishes for Jeonghan to just disappear.)

“Plus, you’re clearly crying in this picture,” Jisoo presses while zooming in on the picture on his phone, because he refuses to admit that the quality of the image is terrible and how it really is difficult to distinguish whether the moisture on Jeonghan’s face is sweat or tears.

“We were wonderful traveling companions but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal in their own separate orbits. From far off they look like beautiful shooting stars, but in reality they're nothing more than prisons, where each of us is locked up alone, going nowhere. When the orbits of these two satellites of ours happened to cross paths, we could be together. Maybe even open our hearts to each other. But that was only for the briefest moment. In the next instant we'd be in absolute solitude. Until we burned up and became nothing,” Jeonghan says monotonously.

“That’s Murakami. Sputnik Sweetheart.” He cites, crossing and then uncrossing his legs awkwardly.

“So you read now? Good for you,” Jisoo hums.

“ _Fuck_ you,” Jeonghan complains, kicking a stray piece of gravel into the water below them.

“Okay, well, you’re gonna have to translate that entire monologue for me. You know I don’t understand when you fall back into your astronomy nerd ways,” Jisoo teases, squeezing Jeonghan’s hand.

“It means worry about your own shit,” Jeonghan tries to laugh easily and it works, but Jisoo can still sense his heavy uncomfortableness in the way he’s standing.

“You know, I really didn’t want to have to resort to this but you leave me with no choice.”

Jisoo steps closer to Jeonghan and turns back and forth, making sure his shoulders knock against Jeonghan’s shoulders.

“Tell me, tell me, tell me!” He whines, and Jeonghan lets out a giggle.

“And you call me childish, Shua-ya.”

Jisoo responds silently by wrapping his arm around Jeonghan’s neck, except this time the weight of his arm is heavy at the base of Jeonghan’s neck and the motion resembles more of a chokehold than a friendly, brotherly embrace.

“ _Tell_ ,” He tries to threaten; all grumbly, low voice from the pit of his stomach, but Jeonghan just rolls his eyes in disinterest and Jisoo feels himself physically explode with laughter.

“Can you at least pretend to be afraid? Tell me,” Jisoo pries in between giggles. He leaves his arm resting on Jeonghan’s shoulders. It’s a familiar comfort.

“ _So scary,_ Jisoo. You’re overreacting, it’s seriously nothing.” Except Jisoo can tell that it is _something,_ in the way Jeonghan’s voice wavers and the thread of insecurity in his voice that he probably couldn’t even pick up himself as he says Jisoo’s name.

He feels the uncomfortable warmth knotting in his stomach, and Jisoo thinks what he feels is fear, because this is what scares him the most -- the fact that he can tell that this has been bothering Jeonghan for ages. How he can pick up tiny things in his voice and expressions like it’s nothing. The fact that he knows Jeonghan _this_ well. It scares him because he knows that underneath Jeonghan’s honey-sweet smile, the same one that he’s flashing Jisoo right now to reassure him, there’s still layers of self-doubt and uncertainty -- layers that only he can see.

“Don’t give me that look, you look like Seungcheol,” Jeonghan complains. “It’s really not that serious.”

Jisoo just holds his gaze. He knows he doesn’t need to say anything.

“It’s just, have you ever felt like someone’s… really close to you but at the same time really far away?” Jisoo just tilts his head in confusion, and Jeonghan purses his lips as he searches for a way to elaborate.

“It’s like looking at the stars, in a way. Like, we see them and we know they’re there, but there’s no way of actually knowing whether that light is from millions of light-years ago and that star is actually already dead or if it’s from the present,” Jeonghan says. He leans back and presses his head into Jisoo’s arm, searching for comfort.

Jisoo hums. “I think I know what you mean? But not really.”

Jeonghan just smiles softly and hums, staring at his hands. “Of course you don’t. You have the perfect girlfriend and the perfect love life.”

Jisoo laughs and pulls him closer. “I guess, but you’re Yoon Jeonghan. Too far above anyone else to be tied down by love.”

He doesn’t realize how cool the summer air is next to the river until a breeze brushes past them and he feels goosebumps starting to form on the backs of his forearms. Jisoo’s mind immediately flips to Jeonghan and how easily he gets cold.

“I’m Yoon Jeonghan,” Jeonghan echoes. He’s already shivering slightly and his lips are beginning to form in a pout.

Jisoo reaches for the bunched-up lavender hoodie placed next to his feet, and hands it to Jeonghan.

“How long have you had this?” Jeonghan asks, genuinely surprised at Jisoo’s sudden preparedness.

“Since we got here, genius. You seriously get cold way too easily,” Jisoo says nonchalantly. He grins, because he knows Jeonghan _too_ well.

“Thanks.” Jeonghan accepts the hoodie. He pulls the sleeves down past his fingers and reaches for Jisoo’s arm, placing it back around his neck with his lavender and cotton fist.

“By the way Shua-ya, everyone needs love. Even someone as faultless as me,” Jeonghan shrugs sadly, stuffing his hands into the kangaroo pocket sewn into the front of his hoodie.

 _Sometimes I think you need the most love out of everyone,_ Jisoo thinks.

“What girl has gotten the nation’s angel himself confused like this?” Jisoo asks playfully, wrinkling his nose.

Jeonghan laughs so quietly it almost gets lost to the wind. “Someone who should be extremely grateful I spend this much time pining over them. It’s not every day you get the infamous Yoon Jeonghan to fall in love with you.”

“Ever the gentleman, even in a one-sided love,” Jisoo jokes.

“Do you ever wonder how different things would be if we never debuted?” Jeonghan suddenly asks. Jisoo can see his hands curling into fists even inside of his pocket.

“Different in what way?” Jisoo responds, trying to read Jeonghan’s expression.

“I don’t know. Just how different everything would be. Like, if we both hadn’t taken the casting agent’s card five years ago, would we even have met? If we both quit right when it got hard, what would we be doing right now? Would you have gone back to America? Would I have become a natural scientist and looked at the exoskeletons of insects until I turn 80 and grey, or would I have become a barista like I always wanted to?” Jeonghan’s face tightens in seriousness and his expression is unreadable, even to Jisoo.

“I don’t think I’d ever be able to imagine a life outside of,” Jisoo motions to the skyline across from them, the swaying trees behind them, and the soft tinkling of bicycle bells next to them. “This. I mean… you’ve been my best friend for so long and our lives have been this for so long, I don’t think I could ever imagine myself being anything other than Seventeen’s Joshua.”

Jeonghan laughs, the corners of his eyes gently creasing. “You’re such a realist sometimes it hurts.”

“I just say it like it is,” Jisoo shrugs, pointing at himself with his thumbs. “It’s an admirable personality trait.”

“It’s fun to imagine an alternate life though. It’s like a choose-your-own ending story except it seems like you always end up choosing the wrong option.” Jeonghan says, staring at the ground.

Jisoo catches Jeonghan’s eyes for just a second and it’s like the pages of a book beginning to open. He chokes on the insecurity that begins to surface on his face.

“What do you mean wrong option? There’s no one else besides you I’d rather know everything about. No one else I’d rather call my best friend.” He comforts Jeonghan and pulls him closer, because he hates when Jeonghan’s unsure like this.

“Sometimes I just wish the definition of _us,_ of Jeonghan and Jisoo wasn’t so… never mind.” Jeonghan brushes the idea off, swallowing hard.

“What?” Jisoo asks, slow and careful.

Jeonghan just smiles sadly into the river, and Jisoo watches as the pale moon hangs in his irises. He can tell by the way his shoulders hang low that he’s already pressed him for too much information.

“Jisoo, there are a lot of things in this world that I am unsure of, but one thing I do know is that we are only best friends. Just like how I know not to leave you in dark, empty practice rooms after midnight during thunderstorms.” Jeonghan says. His voice doesn’t waver at all, and Jisoo begins to think that he’s gotten way too good at pretending like this.

Jeonghan grins again, saccharine sweet and fake. “It’s getting late, let’s go home. I’ll pay for the taxi.”

When they make their way into the taxi, Jisoo opens his phone and scrolls through the pictures he took at the concert. He wonders why he had only paid attention to how _breathtaking_ Jeonghan looked with uneven bangs and violet stage-light irises while he sang along to all of his favorite songs, and not at all to the band that was performing less than three feet in front of him. Why all his entire camera roll is filled with pictures of Jeonghan in different stages of happiness and bliss, and not the stage.

Why it’s Jeonghan, out of all people, that remains imprinted on his mind in the silent moments before he falls asleep.

As Jisoo leans into the cheap leather seats of the taxi that smell too strongly of cigarette smoke and musky cologne, Jeonghan’s voice echoes in his head. _Of_ _course you don’t. You have the perfect girlfriend and the perfect love life,_ but Jisoo can’t help but think about how it doesn’t feel perfect at all.

 

~

 

 

_IV. Autumn_

 

 

Jisoo and Jeonghan both finish their shoots early, so it only makes sense that Jisoo helps the two of them escape the clutches of an over-eager photographer who uses way too many hand gestures while speaking and their hoard of staff members by taking Jeonghan to the roof of his old high school.

L.A is, according to Jeonghan, _insufferably hot in the summertime especially when you have to deal with 16 hours of jetlag in the process_ ; so this time around he’s noticeably less adamant about shutting himself up in an air-conditioned hotel room and sleeping every second that they don’t have a schedule.

September air in L.A is cool and most of the August humidity has disappeared by then, but it’s also in that disgusting window of time where it feels like they’re in Antarctica in the morning and Death Valley by midday -- the air only settles for the briefest moment and allows for a perfect temperature for an hour at most between 7 and 8 PM.

Coincidentally, Jeonghan ends his shoot at 7PM on the dot, so Jisoo begins to think that after 22 years of being alive on this Earth, the stars have finally begun to align in his favor.

“Since you seem to own all the rooftops in Seoul, I want to introduce you to the ones I happen to own in America,” Jisoo says, pushing Jeonghan forward towards the front of the school.

Jisoo’s less than happy to be back at the concrete and brick dungeon he so often compared to prison when he was just a few years younger, but it doesn’t hurt anyone if he puts on his fake “I’m so happy to be back!” grin that people in their 50’s adorn every time they go to a high school reunion and pretend to remember the faces of people they haven’t seen in over 30 years -- _especially_ when Jeonghan looks so in awe of his school. He almost looks _cute_ , Jisoo thinks, but quickly chases that thought away.

“Introducing me to your property? Is this fourth base, Shua-ya?” Jeonghan grins. Even from behind him, Jisoo can hear the smile in his voice.

“So, this is where you suffered for 35 hours a week before coming to Seoul?” Jeonghan rests his hand on a bent _SLOW DOWN_ sign that’s inches away from completely falling over. Jisoo doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it was his car and his reckless driving that nearly knocked over the sign his junior year.

“Shut up. If there even was a fourth base, we passed it years ago,” Jisoo replies mechanically. He’s too focused on trying to get both him and Jeonghan up the ladder bolted into the side of the school without alarming the families that live across the road.

Jeonghan attempts to read the banner that the school administration hadn’t bothered to take down yet welcoming students back for the new school year on their way up, but he gives up after reading the first two words.

“America is so weird, and English words are all unnecessarily long and difficult to pronounce. I want to go back to Korea.”

“Stop complaining. We’ve been here for less than two days,” Jisoo groans, swinging his leg over the ladder and stretching out his hand for Jeonghan to take.

“Of course, how could I ever be so disrespectful towards your hometown? Sorry for being ungrateful, city boy.” Jeonghan bats his eyelashes at Jisoo and circles an old, bright yellow mop bucket.

“A dead rat, how cute. It looks exactly like you when you’re asleep, Shua-ya!” Jeonghan shrieks in delight, lifting one arm up to the side of his face and letting the other hang limply to his side. He sticks his tongue out and closes his eyes in an imitation of the dead rodent that’s almost a little bit _too_ accurate.

Jisoo groans and straightens his back as he steps in front of Jeonghan, pretending to open an invisible door.

“Welcome to my roof. I ask for your forgiveness if it’s a bit unkempt; I haven’t had the time to clean it for the past,” He checks an invisible wristwatch. “Six years.”

“Stop trying to impress me, I’ve lived with you and have had to carry fresh towels to you because you always forget to bring one into the shower with you for _too long_ ,” Jeonghan says pointedly, finding an old striped lawn chair and brushing off the dust that had settled on top of it before sitting down.

“Get off, that’s my chair,” Jisoo complains childishly, kicking Jeonghan’s knee and getting dust all over his black jeans in the process.

“You’ve been here for less than ten minutes and you already act like you own the place.” Jisoo settles for the ugly neon orange chair next to him anyways. The legs were covered in dirt and the middle of the chair fell so far inward from Jisoo’s body weight that he seemed to be a good two feet shorter than Jeonghan, but it was oddly comfortable too.

“Are you not going to apologize first for ruining my jeans?” Jeonghan asks, clearly satisfied with himself.

“That’s not the first pair I’ve ruined, might as well just rack up a collection and pay you back later,” Jisoo shrugs, but only because he hates Jeonghan’s self-satisfied smirk more than anything in the world.

“I should start charging you interest at this point,” Jeonghan whines. “You always ruin the jeans that actually make my ass look good and not the cheap ones I buy at underground stations.”

“I’m not sure what’s going to disappoint you more,” Jisoo replies bluntly. “The fact that you literally have _no_ ass, or the fact that you have no one to impress in the first place.”

“How do you know I don’t have anyone to impress?” Jeonghan asks gently, voice still laced with pride. “After all, even _you_ were staring at my ass.”

“I was not,” Jisoo sputters. He wonders if he’s ever going to be able to hold a conversation with Jeonghan without wanting to strangle him at some point during the conversation, but Jisoo’s wanted to kill Jeonghan for more than 2190 days of his miserable life, so by now the odds of him ever _not_ wanting to commit a heinous crime to Jeonghan are nearing zero.

“It’s okay Shua, I know how difficult it is for the average human to be able to resist me,” Jeonghan says nonchalantly, shifting the weight of his legs back and forth between his heels and his toes.

“How fucked-up does your worldview have to be for you to believe that I even _want_ to look at you -- with your stupidly inflated ego?” Jisoo rubs at his temples. He’s not sure if his sudden headache is a result of his jet-lag or the 178 centimeter-tall lump of smugness in human form that rests in an ugly striped lawn chair next to him, but he’s seriously betting on the latter.

“Not fucked-up at all,” Jeonghan sing-songs.

“You’re pathetic, Yoon Jeonghan,” Jisoo scoffs, but he reaches over and pinches Jeonghan’s cheek -- leaving a pink thumbprint on the side of his face, because he knows better than anyone that Jeonghan’s confidence is a facade, more than anything.

“Aren’t we all?” Jeonghan laughs lightly and rubs at his cheek.

Jeonghan suddenly adopts a look of seriousness and his eyes slowly begin scan down the entire length of Jisoo’s body.

“Stop looking at me like that. What the fuck are you thinking about?” Jisoo says dully, raising an eyebrow at Jeonghan for being so stony-faced. Jeonghan doesn’t respond, just grins and throws himself into Jisoo’s lap, folding his legs on top of each other.

“Was thinking about doing this,” Jeonghan leans back into Jisoo’s chest, and rests his arm on top of Jisoo’s.

“You _idiot,_ my ass is millimeters away from the ground because of you, get off!” Jisoo snaps while trying to hold in his laughter.

“No, it’s comfortable here,” Jeonghan reaches between his crossed legs and rests his hand on Jisoo’s thigh.

“You are actually insufferable,” Jisoo groans, but he rests his palm of the back of Jeonghan’s hand and wraps his fingers around the side anyways.

“Your insults do absolutely nothing to faze me, Shua-ya. I’ve heard them for years,” Jeonghan pouts. He squeezes Jisoo’s thigh, without warning, and Jisoo jumps up.

“Why do you always feel the need to do these things to people in public spaces?” Jeonghan stares up at Jisoo from the ground, gasping for air in between bouts of laughter.

“I thought this was your roof, which makes it a private space?” Jeonghan dodges the question, getting up and brushing the dust off his jeans.

Jisoo just glares at him and sits back down in the lawn chair, stretching his arms out at Jeonghan. “Come on.”

Jeonghan gladly plops back down into Jisoo’s lap, poking his fingers through the mesh of the chair’s cup-holder. “Comfortable.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said at the Standing Egg concert, what you said about us,” Jisoo says, suddenly feeling a tight awkwardness in his chest.

“Oh? What is it with us and getting into deep conversations whenever we’re on the roof of a building?” Jeonghan hums into the sleeve of his hoodie. Jisoo can tell in the way his eyebrows begin to furrow that he doesn’t want to talk about this even more than he did the night of the concert.

“It’s only deep if you make it deep,” Jisoo muses. “But if it helps you sleep at night, I don’t mind at all that you’re my best friend. You’re not half-bad, Yoon Jeonghan.” He reassures, drawing circles into Jeonghan’s back. He doesn’t know if he can feel his touch through the thick fabric of his hoodie.

“I mean, you’re needy and insufferable and most of the time I want to put you in a chokehold and never let go, but there’s no one I’d rather have homicidal thoughts towards than you,” Jisoo says, and he watches Jeonghan’s lips quirk into a small smile.

“There are a lot of things I can only do with you, and I’m thankful for that. That you know me so well, and that I know you so well,” Jisoo continues.

“I’m _not_ insufferable, you’re the one that’s insufferable,” Jeonghan says, but his eyes are tiny crescent moons waning in delight.

“I’ll just take back what I just said then, you’re not my best f--”

“No, continue. You never compliment me like this, I want to cherish it,” Jeonghan sighs dramatically, raising an arm up to his forehead.

“You are so full of shit,” Jisoo smiles. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Say it again, I dare you,” Jeonghan draws his arm back with impressive speed and smacks Jisoo right in the middle of his forehead with the thick cotton of his hoodie sleeve.

“Listen, asshole,” Jisoo says, because being nice to Jeonghan without throwing a tiny insult in is physically impossible for him. “I’m just saying, you don’t have to worry about me liking anyone else better than you, because that’s not gonna happen in this life.”

Jisoo’s chest fills with a tight awkwardness, and he wants to chase it away. “So, don’t waste your time being jealous over me, because if anything, the only person worth being jealous of is yourself.”

Jeonghan hits him with his sleeve again, grinning. “Yah, who said I was jealous over you?”

“Yourself, idiot. On multiple occasions.”

“I tell you _one_ thing as a joke and it suddenly fuels your ego for months? I have better things to do with my time than to think about your ugly face all day, Shua,” Jeonghan says, adjusting his position in Jisoo’s lap.

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying? You need to stop beating yourself up just because I have a girlfriend, because there’s no one I love more than you. And stop squirming around, what are you, five?” Jisoo mutters, staring intently at the ground.

“If you find this uncomfortable, go back to your chair. I’ve had enough of you invading my personal space all the time.”

“ _No,_ ” Jeonghan says, sweetly. He shifts his arm so that it rests on top of Jisoo’s and somehow, his smaller hand fills in the gaps between Jisoo’s fingers perfectly.

Jeonghan intertwines their fingers and leans back into Jisoo’s chest. “I love you too, Jisoo.”

Jisoo doesn’t know why his chest feels so warm and so _tight_ and why it feels like there are hundreds of firecrackers popping against his palm where Jeonghan’s hand rests. _Emotions are so much more complicated than they need to be,_ he complains in his head.

“You’ve always taken care of me. Even though I’m older than you and it should be the other way around. Even though I’m insanely difficult and don’t know how to navigate my thoughts and feelings half the time,” Jeonghan grins, and Jisoo swears he sees a tiny glimmer of sadness in his eyes, but he’s too overwhelmed and confused with his own emotions that he can’t bring himself to question it.

“You know you mean the universe to me, Jisoo. I don’t even have to tell you for you to know that.”

Jisoo stares at Jeonghan from behind, with his _stupid_ bleached-blonde hair that smells like LA sun and faintly of artificial mango, his black hoodie that rests comfortably on top of his broad shoulders, the two moles on the side of his neck that if Jisoo draws a parentheses under, makes a smiley face -- and wonders what he’s so scared of. He watches as the skyline fills with deep reds and oranges and thinks about how Jeonghan’s touch feels just as red-hot as the sunset displayed in front of them.

He thinks about how Jeonghan is the absolute _worst_ , and the most annoying person he has ever met, but wonders why he feels like he can never quite leave him without coming back.

Jisoo groans because emotions are complicated, right when his phone pings with a message notification.

Jeonghan lets go of Jisoo’s hand to reach for the phone, and he raises it up so that both of them can see the banner flashing on the homescreen of Jisoo’s phone.

“It’s from Jiyeon.”

Jisoo looks at the screen, thinks for a moment, and gently pushes Jeonghan’s hands back down into his lap. He leans forward so that he can make eye contact with him, and finds the soaring reds and oranges of an LA sunset in Jeonghan’s eyes.

“Don’t answer it. I want to stay like this, for just a moment. Just the two of us.”

Jisoo wraps his arms around Jeonghan’s waist and sighs into the crook of his neck. He’s not sure what exactly the tightness in his chest means, or why his hand seems to permanently ache for Jeonghan’s.

Why it feels like he wants to hold onto him forever, and never let go.

He doesn’t text Jiyeon back, and he doesn’t realize until he gets to the hotel and falls into the bed next to a snoring Jeonghan that it was their anniversary.

 

-

 

 _Seungcheol turned Jeonghan’s 23rd birthday into something far more extravagant than it was originally intended to be,_ Jisoo thinks as he sits in an unused practice room with pink and gold streamers wrapped around both of his arms, tasting different flavors of birthday cake. (They had all started to taste the same after he was presented with a spoonful of the fourth cake, but he finishes them all off anyways, for Seungcheol’s sake.)

“Can you tell me why we’re doing this again?” Jisoo grumbles, licking buttercream frosting off of his lips. “You _know_ Jeonghan doesn’t even like cake.”

Seungcheol just glares at Jisoo, looking as if he’s seconds away from exploding. “I don’t have time for your complaining. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s 11:55 PM, Jeonghan’s birthday is 5 minutes away, and I still haven’t picked out a cake flavor for him.”

“I wasn’t complain-” Jisoo points out, leaning back into his chair and watching Seungcheol slowly disintegrate into a pile of stress on the unswept floor.

“I don’t want to hear it. Try this last one,” Seungcheol interrupts, shoving a spoonful of lemon cake directly in front of Jisoo’s face.

“Tastes fine,” Jisoo swallows and pauses for dramatic effect, because he relishes the sight of Seungcheol’s face turning beet-red in a mixture of stress and anger. “This is the one he’s least likely to spit out. I think we’ve found a winner, Cheol.”

Seungcheol sighs in relief and visibly drops 1000-pound weights off of both his shoulders. “Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Jisoo groans.

“I don’t know what you’re so stressed over. He’s been asleep for the past two hours and _you know_ if you wake him up he’ll fucking knock you out,” Jisoo lightly pushes the side of Seungcheol’s head. “Whether it’s his birthday or not.”

It’s then that the door to the old practice room slams against the wall, the sound of the heavy door impacting the drywall echoing in the nearly-empty space. “I’ve risen, assholes.” Jeonghan calls out to no one in particular, walking up to the old table tennis table that’s unfolded in the middle of the room currently covered with rejected cake flavors.

Jeonghan pulls a spoon out of the pocket of his hoodie, and takes a rather large spoonful of the red velvet cake. “This is disgusting,” he says, chewing slowly.

Jisoo looks over at Seungcheol and raises his eyebrows, shrugging at the same time. _I told you so._ Seungcheol just sticks a hand behind his chair and flips Jisoo off while Jeonghan throws his spoon onto the top of the red velvet cake, unsatisfied.

“How did you know we were here?” Seungcheol says shakily, running a hand through his hair.

“I installed a tracking device in Shua’s phone,” Jeonghan smiles sweetly at Jisoo, walking up to Seungcheol and pulling him up out of his seat by his hair. “Coups-ya, you look like you’re about to explode.”

“You installed a _what_ \-- you asshole!” Jisoo grabs onto Jeonghan’s arm, trying to pull him closer so he can put Jeonghan in the chokehold he’s so familiar with being in.

“I’m just _kidding_ ,” Jeonghan croons, still not relinquishing his grip on Seungcheol’s hair. “Seungkwan told me where you two were.”

“Plus, you only go back and forth between our dorm, the practice room, and your girlfriend’s apartment, so stalking you would be no fun.” Jeonghan huffs, but Jisoo doesn’t pay any attention. He’s too busy feeling bad for Seungcheol, whose eyes are welling up and looks seconds away from crying.

“Yah, let go of him,” Jisoo tilts his head in Seungcheol’s direction.

“Okay,” Jeonghan agrees easily, surprisingly sans a bribe from Jisoo. He lets go of Seungcheol’s hair and slaps him in the arm, beaming. “But, you know I hate sweet desserts, so why did you buy 10 different varieties of cake?” Seungcheol rubs at his arm, grimacing, and Jisoo just throws him a look of pity.

“I wanted to make your birthday _special_ ,” Seungcheol says through gritted teeth. He turns his head from his previous position of staring intently at the wall, and nearly flies out of his chair in anger when he akes eye contact with Jeonghan, whose previously discarded spoon is shoved deep into the center of the lemon cake resting on Jisoo’s lap.

“ _Stop eating that_! It’s for tomorrow, you _shithead!_ ” Seungcheol yells, gripping the arms of his chair as he attempts to steady himself.

“Who the fuck eats their birthday cake _before_ their party?” He groans as he storms out of the practice room, the soles of his practice sneakers loudly hitting against the floor.

Jeonghan just sighs as he watches Seungcheol’s dramatic exit, slowly pulling a second spoon out of his hoodie pocket and handing it to Jisoo. “You should try some, it’s good.”

Jisoo happily takes a spoonful of the cake, and he clinks the end of his spoon with Jeonghan’s before sticking the tart dessert into his mouth.

“To chasing Seungcheol away.” Jeonghan toasts, and Jisoo smiles to himself. Not because annoying Seungcheol with Jeonghan is one of his top five biggest joys in life, even though it is, but because he was right -- the lemon cake _did_ end up being Jeonghan’s favorite.

-

Jeonghan and Jisoo are exactly two weeks into their one-month punishment of having to clean the practice room and break room on October 4th, so when finally they make their way back to the dorms two hours after the rest of the members after completing what felt like several hours of hard labor with slightly more tightness in their backs and slightly more dust in their lungs, their dorm is already covered in pink and gold baby shower-esque streamers.

When Jeonghan opens the door, an arm stretches out from inside the door and pulls the string of a confetti popper -- except he misses, and Jisoo ends up entering the room with a head full of confetti.

“What the _\--_ ” He begins, before the mystery hand whose owner is revealed to be Soonyoung, presses a finger to Jisoo’s lips and shushes him.

“Only nice words on our _favorite_ hyung’s birthday, please.” Soonyoung grins, before pulling a birthday hat out from behind his back and slipping it rather aggressively onto Jeonghan’s head. He pops another confetti popper, and this time the tiny pieces of paper successfully land onto their target.

“You flatter me, Soonie,” Jeonghan coos, before walking up to the large window in the middle of a dorm. A string of letters is lazily hanging from the curtain railings, which Jisoo assumes is supposed to spell out _Happy Birthday._ Instead, almost all of the letters are in the wrong spot, and the banner reads _Bath Yard Hippy_ instead.

“You did all of this for me?” Jeonghan asks, touching the streamers that hang from the ceiling.

“We only put half of the effort that you put in every day to make our lives as miserable as possible into this party,” Seungcheol says dully.

“I can tell,” Jisoo giggles as he watches Seungcheol attempt to rearrange the letters on the birthday banner.

“Maybe if you two hadn’t eaten the entire birthday cake last night, this party could’ve ended up being at least somewhat more successful,” Seungcheol groans. He pulls a silver flask off of the dining table he was previously leaning on, and takes a large swig of the liquid inside.

“Ooh, alcohol,” Jeonghan grins, leaning forward and swiping the flask from Seungcheol’s grip. The flask is at his lips when Jisoo smacks the side of his head, scowling.

“Yah, if you get piss-drunk today and I go to the bathroom at 3AM only to find you knocked out in the bathtub with Soonyoung passed out and hugging the toilet next to you, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

“For your information, falling asleep wasted in our dorm bathroom is a birthday tradition. So fuck you,” Jeonghan beams, and drains the flask of all its contents.

-

When Jisoo hears Jeonghan call his name at half-past midnight, he’s already nearly toppled over in a drunken haze on the tiny daybed that’s pressed against the window. Most of the members have split up into groups and shut themselves in their own separate rooms according to age, save for Seungcheol, who was on an emergency trip to 7/11 to buy -- in his words -- _a_ _replacement cake, because Jeonghan is a fucking idiot._

If Jisoo really listens, he can hear the slap of _Yugioh!_ cards against hardwood floor coming from Seokmin’s room, and the clink of wine glasses and soft folk music filtering through the cracks of Minghao’s door.

“ _Shua_ , come here,” Jeonghan slurs, smoothing out the spot on the bed next to him. (Granted, he’s leaned over and taking up nearly 80% of the bed, so there really isn’t much to smooth out.)

“You never listen to me, do you?” Jisoo reprimands, pushing Jeonghan’s beer glass away from his reach.

“Hey, give it back,” Jeonghan whines, pressing his face against the glass of the window.

“Drink this,” Jisoo presses a water bottle into Jeonghan’s chest. Jeonghan lifts his head, bangs messily sticking to his forehead, and Jisoo fixes his hair for him.

Jeonghan raises the bottle to his lips, before setting it back down. His eyebrows knit together, and the corners of his lips start to raise. “Did I trick you?” He giggles, pressing a finger into Jisoo’s cheek.

“You are _the_ most childish person I’ve ever met in my life,” Jisoo complains.

Jeonghan ignores him and starts to push the window open, fingers slipping on the lock on the side of the window frame. “Look at the stars with me, Shua.”

Jisoo watches Jeonghan struggle with the window for a second longer before helping him push it open the rest of the way. “You’re not giving me much of a choice, are you?”

Jeonghan thanks him with a grin. “No, and you’re doing it wrong.”

He grabs Jisoo’s arm and wraps it around his neck, leaning into the collar of Jisoo’s shirt. “You have to _hold_ me, Shua-ya.”

“Okay, you disgusting romantic,” Jisoo smiles, and pulls him closer. He smells like the cheap, fruity, artificially flavored canned margaritas that are impossible to get drunk on no matter how hard you try.

Jeonghan sniffs and wipes his face on Jisoo’s shirt. “When did I get so sweaty?” He pouts.

“Probably when you decided to dance to our entire discography with Seungkwan earlier,” Jisoo replies smugly. He taps softly on Jeonghan’s head just to make sure he’s still _alive,_ and points to a cluster of stars just above the top of the cherry blossom tree across from their dorm, on top of Orion, once he gets his attention. “There’s the Pleiades.”

“Oh? It is. You know your stuff, Shua~” Jeonghan grins lazily at Jisoo, all pink-cheeked and sweaty, and Jisoo feels his heart skip a beat. _That’s the thing about Jeonghan, though,_ he thinks to himself. _He’s always looked beautiful, no matter what._

“Of course,” Jisoo smiles softly, dropping his arm so that his hand rests on the small of Jeonghan’s back. “I put that star machine you bought me to use.”

Jeonghan giggles and falls into Jisoo’s lap. His eyes are closed, but Jisoo can tell that he’s still thinking loudly to himself.

“Yah, don’t get too full of yourself. I only use it because it’s the best gift you’ve ever given me in all our years of friendship.” Jisoo says. “And this serves as a friendly reminder _not_ to give me a gift card to a store _you know_ I will never go to just to spite me, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Okay, I won’t, I promise,” Jeonghan mumbles. He sounds like his mouth is filled with gauze.  

“Hey, did I ever tell you how Orion was connected to the Pleiades?” Jeonghan hums, eyes still closed.

“No,” Jisoo answers, watching Jeonghan’s eyelashes flutter as a soft breeze begins to blow in through the open window.

“There’s a three-star cluster near the right of Orion -- that’s called Taurus the Bull,” Jeonghan says softly, not bothering to open his eyes. It’s almost as if he’s picturing the entire night sky in his mind and is guiding Jisoo through the map of the stars in his head, with his eyes closed and his entire body in a state of tranquility.

“The brightest star of the three is named Aldebaran,” Jeonghan smiles sadly to himself, drawing his own constellations onto the fabric of Jisoo’s jeans. “Do you know why, Shua?”

“Tell me why,” Jisoo whispers, running his fingers through Jeonghan’s hair, a rush of emotions that he can’t quite pin down and define soaring through his veins.

“Aldebaran is Arabic for follower,” Jeonghan says. “Because when Orion was still alive, he met and fell in love with the Pleiades. He fell so hard for them that he chased after them every single day, even after Zeus cast them into the stars.”

“The name _follower_ is in reference to Orion, who was, or is -- so deeply in love with the Pleiades he chases them forever across the heavens.” Jeonghan whispers.

Jisoo watches as Jeonghan’s brows knit together, as he starts to squeeze his eyes shut just a little tighter, and he feels like suddenly the thick clouds that had blinded Jisoo and shielded Jeonghan’s feelings from him for so long have been cleared, and Jisoo _understands._

“You’re not just talking about Orion, are you?”

“I was beginning to wonder when you’d realize,” Jeonghan opens his eyes and meets Jisoo’s gaze, sounding strangely sober. “I’ve been in love with you all this time, Jisoo-ya.”

Jisoo presses his hands into the fabric of his jeans and stares at Jeonghan, stares into the same eyes he’s found comfort and sadness in for the past five years of his life.

“Since that night in Jeju? When you kissed me?”

“Since _forever,_ Jisoo,” Jeonghan says breathlessly. “Since I ran through downpours for you and almost, but not quite, got over my fear of thunderstorms. Since I took you up to our unused roof in the middle of winter and you promised me the whole world. Since you watched me lose half of my blood volume in a company bathroom with sketchy flickering lights.” He laughs, staring at the night sky.

“I want to kiss you right now, but I know it would be wrong,” Jeonghan leans on the windowsill, staring intently at a silent Jisoo.

“You don’t have to know what to say right away, Shua. It’s nothing compared to the time I’ve spent already pining after you like a lost dog, anyways.”

“Jeonghan,” Jisoo manages to say, hands still dumbly resting against his thighs. “ _Wait here._ ”

“Hurry back,” Jeonghan says, stretching out his hand and holding onto Jisoo’s wrist, sweaty fingers lingering against Jisoo’s skin for just a moment before letting him go. Jisoo thinks it’s the most vulnerable he’s ever sounded.

 

-

 

Jisoo sits on his bed, the one that feels empty without Jeonghan’s loud and more often than not annoying presence on the bunk on top of it and watches as Jeonghan’s words flit through his brain and in front of his eyes.

 _I’ve been in love with you all this time, Jisoo-ya. I’ve been in love with you all this time, Jisoo-ya. I’ve been in love with you all this time, Jisoo-ya,_ and Jisoo wants to hit himself and scream into his pillow for eternity because how could he be so _stupid_ and selfish for not noticing?

He thinks the world is fucked-up and confusing, and right when things seem to fall into place the Universe decides to say a _Hey, fuck you,_ and hurtles him into what almost seems like an alternate universe where emotions are over-complicated and just plain dumb.

Jisoo sees a piece of lavender fabric hanging off of the edge of Jeonghan’s bed and he grabs it, only to have an entire hoodie fall onto his lap. Stuck to the front is a pink post-it, covered entirely in Jeonghan’s unbelievable messy, nearly impossible to read, worse than a grade-schooler’s handwriting.

 _Notes from Sober Jeonghan to Drunk Jeonghan,_ the top of the post-it note reads. _1\. When Shua gives you water, drink it. Even if you don’t want to. Otherwise you’ll have to deal with hungover Jeonghan :( 2. Don’t do anything stupid while you’re drunk, or else I’ll time travel into the future and beat you up. 3. Remember to wash this hoodie and give it back to Jisoo, no matter how much you like wearing things that smell like him. 4. Shower before you go to bed. Please._

“You’ve been stealing my hoodies all these years?” Jisoo just smiles and whispers dumbly to himself, in the stupid dark room he’s shared with the person who knows him inside-and-out for the end of his teenage life and the beginning of his adult life, because, _God_ , he thinks he’s in love with Jeonghan too.

Jeonghan, who sleeps with blackout curtains because he cannot fall asleep unless he’s in complete darkness. Jeonghan, who listens to soft indie music but jams out to it like he’s in a mosh pit at a rock concert. Jeonghan, who has a scar right above his lip and below his nose because he fell out of a tree when he was in elementary school. Jeonghan, who he will always stay for and come back to, no matter what.

Jeonghan, who he promised the world to, who kissed him under hot stage lights and in front of an ocean that had seemed endless in the middle of a storm.

Jisoo’s realization isn’t nearly as magical as falling in love is said to be in movies and fairytales, but he realizes that it doesn’t need to be _._ Falling in love with your best friend is like re-reading your favorite novel for the 20th time, because no matter how hard you try, you can never get tired of it. It’s like the habits you have and the little things you do without realizing, because you’ve known them for so long you can’t imagine things being any other way.

Just then, the door to their shared room opens softly, and Seungcheol peeks his head through with a sleeping Jeonghan in his arms. “This idiot fell asleep with his cheek stuck to the window outside. After all the trouble I went through to get a replacement cake for him, too.”

Jisoo just silently smiles and follows Seungcheol with his eyes as he carefully lays Jeonghan on his bed, resting Jeonghan’s head on his arm as he fluffs his pillows and spreads out his blanket.

“He’s gonna throw a fit tomorrow morning when he’s all hungover and realizes he fell asleep before he had a chance to shower,” Seungcheol complains softly, careful not to disturb Jeonghan.

“I’ll take care of him, don’t worry,” Jisoo laughs. He hands Seungcheol the lavender hoodie he had been holding in his hands. “Cover him with this, he says he likes it because it smells like me.”

“What an _idiot_ ,” Seungcheol says, but he complies anyway, and Jisoo feels his heart physically soften when Jeonghan immediately wraps his arms around the hoodie and hugs it tightly to his chest, even in subconsciousness.

When Seungcheol leaves, Jisoo stands up and rests his hand on Jeonghan’s chest, feeling the slow and steady beat of his heart. “For the record, you didn’t do any of the things sober you asked you to do.”

Jeonghan whines in his sleep and turns to his side in response.

“I think I might’ve been in love with you for forever, too, Yoon Jeonghan,” Jisoo smiles. “Just don’t make fun of me for the rest of my life because you realized it first, okay?”

His chest feels warm and tight in the same way it has been for the past few months, but it isn’t until that moment that Jisoo finally puts a label on it and realizes that it’s _love._

-

 **jiyeonnie: can you come see me today?** **♡**

**me: i can’t .. it’s jeonghan’s birthday today and we’re having a party, sorry :(**

**jiyeonnie: you see him everyday though :((( come over just for a few minutes?**

**jiyeonnie: come on shua, for your girlfriend~**

**me: i’m really sorry, he drank too much and i have to watch over him haha**

**me: i’ll meet up with you tomorrow, i have something to tell you anyways**

**me: i’ll text u the address**

 

-

 

Jisoo decides to meet Jiyeon in the park where they shared their first kiss, because it only felt right to end this chapter of their story the same place where it began. The fall foliage is the prettiest it’s been for years, Jisoo thinks. The perfect amount of autumn rain and sun had touched upon the trees looming over the large walkway in the middle of a park, red and golden leaves slowly descending towards the ground as Jisoo sits on a bench under a maple tree. He wrings his hands nervously in his lap, clicking his phone on and off to check if Jiyeon had made it to the park.

Jisoo catches a falling leaf in his hand and gently places it on the armrest next to him when someone lightly taps his shoulder. Jisoo smells the faint scent of vanilla and lavender, and knows that it’s Jiyeon.

“Hey, stranger,” Jiyeon smiles prettily, lacing her perfectly manicured figures with Jisoo’s. “What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

Jisoo sighs and his stomach feels like it’s in his throat, but in the end he knows that he needs to listen to his heart -- even if it means hurting Jiyeon. He hates himself for being so selfish and for putting her through all of this because he was too dumb to realize his own feelings. For telling her that he loved her and not even realizing himself that it was a lie.

“Jiyeon, I love you and I think you’re really special but--”

Jiyeon stops Jisoo by placing her other hand on top of their interlocked hands.

“You’re in love with Jeonghan.” She smiles sadly, drawing circles onto the back of Jisoo’s hand to ease him.

Jisoo’s fingers twitch in surprise, and he doesn’t answer her. His thoughts are far too jumbled for him to form coherent sentences.

“I had a feeling you were,” Jiyeon says, voice trembling slightly. Jisoo squeezes her hand. “It’s kind of hard not to notice when your own boyfriend is in love with his best friend.”

“I’m really sorry, Jiyeon. I feel like the world’s biggest asshole.” Jisoo shifts slightly -- he suddenly feels much colder than he was when he had first arrived at the park, even with a wool coat and scarf on. “I feel even worse that you could tell I was in love with him.”

“You always did sound the happiest whenever you were talking about whatever stupid things Jeonghan was doing at practice that day.” Jiyeon’s eyes are filled with tears, Jisoo can see as the sunlight moves to reflect on her face, but she’s still smiling and holding on to Jisoo’s hand. “I just really wanted to believe that you loved me more than you loved him, but that wasn’t possible.”

“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” Jisoo laughs and Jiyeon coughs into her sleeve, wiping at her eyes when she thinks he isn’t paying attention. “I fell in love with someone as dumb as Jeonghan.”

“He’s not dumb to you, Jisoo,” Jiyeon giggles and lets go of his hand. “It’s okay, not everything can turn out the way we expect it to.”

“We can still be friends,” Jisoo whispers, pushing the leaf he had caught in his hand earlier and crushing it under his shoe. “Just like we were before.”

“Of course,” Jiyeon’s voice catches in her throat. “Just like before.”

“For the record though, I really did enjoy the time we spent together. I genuinely loved you, Jiyeon.” Jisoo says, watching Jiyeon wipe her hands back and forth on the fabric of her dress. _I’m officially the definition of a dick,_ he thinks. “I just… just love him more, I guess. And I didn’t realize until recently. I’m really sorry. For being stupid.”

“I’ll be okay, Jisoo, really,” Jiyeon grins at him, eyes still slightly wet with moisture. “I don’t think I could’ve loved you more than he does, even if you had never noticed. There’s truly no one in the world that knows you better than Jeonghan. I’d never be able to beat him in my lifetime.”

“That day in the park when he came up to us, I immediately knew he was something special to you and that you were something special to him,” Jiyeon says. “He knows you inside-and-out, Jisoo. Plus, he loves you even if you’re Team Jacob.”

She gets up even before Jisoo does, and holds his hand one last time before letting go. “If you’re going to confess to him right now, you don’t need to worry. I could tell that he loved you too. But if anything bad happens in the future, tell him I’ll wring his neck if he ever hurts you, okay?”

Jisoo laughs and salutes to her, watching her dress billow in the wind. The dress that he once had loved to feel between his fingers. “It was a pleasure to love you, Jiyeonnie. I’m sorry it had to end this way.”

“Don’t be. My time with you was unforgettable,” Jiyeon whispers before walking away, and as Jisoo watches her retreating figure disappear among the red and golden trees, he lets a few tears fall into his lap.

 

-

 

The first thing Jisoo asks when he arrives home, even before both of his feet are inside the dorm, is where Jeonghan is. He doesn’t bother taking off his coat or scarf and instead runs towards their shared room, leaving a trail of wet imprints of the pattern on the bottom of his shoes behind him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mingyu gripes, immediately grabbing a roll of paper towels off the kitchen table and following behind Jisoo. “Take off your shoes before you come in the dorm.”

Jisoo steps into his room only to discover the absence of his hungover best friend’s sleeping body. “Where’s Jeonghan?” He asks Mingyu irritatingly.

“Well, if you had been more patient when you came in,” Mingyu bends over and starts wiping at the floor, tutting at Jisoo. “I would’ve told you that Jeonghan disappeared as soon as he woke up and none of us have any idea where he is.”

“What the fuck?” Jisoo snaps. He knows he’s being incredibly irrational right now, but he figures Mingyu would be just as short-tempered as he is in this moment if his heart was about to launch itself out of his chest because he was about to confess to his best friend of five years that he’s in love with him too.

Mingyu shrugs, tucking his hands into the pocket of his sweatpants. “Did he say something stupid to you last night or did anything happen between the two of you? Because the last thing he said before he left was _fucking Joshuji_.”

“Nothing happened between us.” And it clicks in Jisoo’s mind then -- of course Jeonghan would be on the roof, hungover and probably freezing to death because he has no perception of temperature. He doesn’t have time to thank Mingyu before he runs out of their dorm, taking the steps up to the roof two at a time as if the world would end if he didn’t confess his feelings to Jeonghan right now, within the next thirty seconds.

Jeonghan’s standing with his arms dangling off the ledge of the roof. He’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes, hair messed up partly due to his habit of tossing and turning in his sleep and partly because of the wind at the top of the building. When Jisoo gets closer to him, he can see the goosebumps lining up and down his arms and he thinks, _You idiot. You never learn, do you?_

“Jeonghan,” Jisoo calls out, still too scared to stand directly beside him.

“You’re here,” Jeonghan turns around. He smiles and Jisoo’s heart clenches, because can see that the tip of his nose and his cheeks are flushed and he _knows_ that only happens when Jeonghan’s been crying.

“Look,” Jeonghan says when Jisoo finally starts to make his way towards him, but he stops and lingers at an arm’s length away from him when he sees the uncomfortableness written all over Jeonghan’s face. “I remembered what I said to you last night, and I wanted to say that I meant it, but you don’t have to make anything of it.”

“Jeonghan--” Jisoo puts a hand on Jeonghan’s arm and squeezes.

“No, let me finish,” Jeonghan whispers, shivering at Jisoo’s touch. “I’m really sorry if it made you uncomfortable. The last thing I want is for you to feel weird, so if you want me to leave I can, I guess.”

“You can be so stupid sometimes,” Jisoo laughs and unbuttons his coat, placing it gently on top of Jeonghan’s shoulders. “Don’t leave, you idiot.”

“I’m pretty sure I just fucked up our friendship forever, though,” Jeonghan laughs bitterly and a tear falls onto the sleeve of Jisoo’s jacket.

“Do you still not get it?” Jisoo says, stepping closer to Jeonghan so that their arms touch. He lets the warmth from his arm transfer to Jeonghan, who’s still shivering even inside his jacket, and ultimately decides to wrap his scarf around Jeonghan’s neck as well. “I broke up with Jiyeon today.”

“Why would you break up with her?” Jeonghan says. He turns to Jisoo and his eyebrows raise slightly, as if he’s beginning to understand but is still unsure of whether he should get his hopes up. “You loved her.”

“I loved someone else more,” Jisoo smiles and intertwines his fingers with Jeonghan’s. The feeling is familiar and warm and Jisoo’s heart feels like it’s on fire. He realizes that he’s the biggest idiot in the world for not realizing all this time that Jeonghan was the one he loved, even when it felt like no one else in the world mattered but him.

Jisoo hesitates at first, but then he realizes there's nothing to be afraid of when he's with Jeonghan. “I’m in love with you, Seoul.”

“You know that nickname brings back unpleasant memories,” Jeonghan sniffles into the sleeve of Jisoo’s jacket and holds his hand tighter. “Do you mean it? Is this some sick joke Seungcheol asked you to play on me?”

“Why would this be a joke?” _You really are the world’s biggest idiot,_ Jisoo thinks to himself fondly.

“I mean, you’re probably really confused right now because I confessed to you all of sudden last night and who knows, you might pity me because I was just so sad and so wasted when I told you that I was hopelessly in love with you, not to mention the fact that Seungcheol still hasn’t gotten back at me for eating my birthday cake _before_ my party.” Jeonghan rambles without taking a single breath, and Jisoo wants to die right there on the roof because he’s just so _stupid_ and so cute and so _Jeonghan_.

“Will you believe me if I do this?” Jisoo whispers before leaning forward and pressing his lips to Jeonghan’s. He kisses him and it feels like electricity. It feels like the hot stage lights that had shined upon them when Jeonghan kissed him the first time and the white lightning that had crashed into the ocean when he kissed him the second.

Jisoo melts into Jeonghan’s lips as he kisses him back, and it feels like they’re the last people on Earth, like the Universe was announcing that among the stars, the planets, and everything in between, Jeonghan and Jisoo existed -- and their love was beautiful.

“Oh.” Jeonghan is the first one to pull away. He smiles and hides into Jisoo’s scarf. Jisoo raises a brow at his sudden timidness.

“Yah, I guess you can be just as shy as you were when we first met when you want to be,” Jisoo grins. “This is the longest you’ve stayed quiet near me for years. I like it.”

“Shut up.” Jeonghan retreats further into the scarf, half of his face completely obscured by auburn wool.

“You know, I think I should be the one apologizing, not you,” Jisoo says, still dizzy from the kiss. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Jeonghan hums. He pulls Jisoo closer to him so that their shoulders touch and the contact feels far more intimate than it had ever felt before, but Jisoo doesn’t mind. “I think I would’ve waited forever for you no matter what, Shua.”

“You’re telling me you would’ve been willing to stay forever single and become a recluse for the rest of your life for me?” Jisoo smiles into Jeonghan’s shoulder. “You’re just flattering me.”

“I’m not,” Jeonghan shakes his head and cups Jisoo’s cheek in his hand, leaning down to kiss him again.

“I don’t know how to love anyone else but you, LA.”

 

-

 

Jeonghan climbs into Jisoo’s bed that night, hair still damp from a shower, and immediately envelopes Jisoo in his arms. They both smile because they know it’s _different_ now, different in a way that’s both terrifying and exciting. Different because Jeonghan had climbed into Jisoo’s bed today just like he had for the past five years, except this time there are no thunderstorms for Jisoo to shelter him from, only trails of kisses pressed into Jeonghan’s neck down to his collarbones and the lingering scent of artificially scented convenience store shampoo on Jisoo’s bedsheets.

Jeonghan grabs the star machine that he had gifted Jisoo last winter and turns it on, projecting a map of the sky onto the top of Jisoo’s bed.

“How did you realize?” He asks, staring at the stars that make up Orion.

“How did I realize I was in love with you?” Jisoo whispers, tracing his fingers along the frame of Jeonghan’s face. He wants to burn this image of Jeonghan into his mind forever -- lips slightly upturned in a hazy smile, eyelashes fluttering as Jisoo leans forward to press a kiss onto the tip of his nose.

“I don’t know. Being with you, it just feels _right_. Even as friends, I knew I never wanted to leave your side for as long as I lived. I realized that you’re such a large presence in my life, even when you don’t know how to shut up and annoy the living hell out of me. I can’t imagine a life in which I don’t bring an extra hoodie with me everywhere I go because you always get too cold,” Jisoo laughs softly. “I should have known we were meant to be the day we met and I found out you liked honey butter chips too.”

Jeonghan giggles and presses his palm to Jisoo’s, lifting their connected hands so that they hang above their heads, and intertwines their fingers.

“Shua-ya,” He breathes, eyelids growing heavy and pink lips parting as the near silence between them begins to lull him to sleep. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jisoo whispers back, and wraps his arms around Jeonghan’s waist, pressing his head into Jeonghan’s chest. In that moment they are so intimate and so vulnerable, and Jisoo _knows_ that this is where he is supposed to be -- where they are supposed to be. In each other’s arms, ever connections of one another. Jeonghan had walked into Jisoo’s life and created a permanent presence in it, carving himself into Jisoo’s heart without him even realizing it. They had stumbled across a burning bridge between friends and lovers together, walking through an everlasting reminder of what longed to be, what meant to be, and what came to be.

A reminder of how they began as best friends and _nothing more_ and emerged as the halves that complete one another like the triumph that follows the end of a storm.

And Jeonghan is busking in dirty Seoul subway stations, the breeze of walking passerbys and the crinkle of papers that advertise the debut of a new 13-member boy group, repeated mantras of _don’t give up_ , indigo seas and hushed kisses, the soft cotton sheets of hotel room blankets that smell like the spring sun, crashing thunder and torrential rain. He is tropical mango shampoo and quiet confessions on rooftops.

As Jisoo lays against Jeonghan’s chest on a dorm room bed the two of them know far too well, under the artificial projection of a constellation they know as Orion, he thinks that maybe redefining the words Jeonghan and Jisoo is something worth trying, when their story is as boundless and never-ending as the cosmos that are projected above them.

~ ~ ~

 

 _end_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u read this all the way through, thank you for giving this fic a chance!!! it was definitely a mess from start to finish, but i really wanted to highlight the fact that love is almost never as straightforward as you expect it to be -- and that was exactly the case with jeonghan and joshua here :)
> 
> i hope u learned to love the characters just like i did when i wrote them (seriously.. i just want to hug jeonghan and tell him everything's gonna be okay)
> 
> please leave kudos and comments!!!!!!!! your feedback is greatly appreciated :*
> 
> again, thank u for reading this giant mess T_T  
> i love u all~~ mwah!!
> 
> (p.s. apparently pledis entertainment derives their name from the pleiades constellation. go figure.)  
> (p.p.s yell with me about how stupid jeonghan is on twitter :3 @jeonghnas)


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